


With Good Grace

by DeathjunkE



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hermaphrodites, M/M, Magical Culture, Ministry of Magic, Multi, Sibling Incest, Triads, ministrry of magic is full of stupid laws, old fic, ron big bang, trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the Weasley men are hermaphrodites but it is kept a secret for the safety of the clan. When Ron gets pregnant at school, the secret is exposed. Triofic</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Good Grace

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that I just realized I never posted here. It was a fic for the 2010/2011 Ron Big Bang and was originally posted here: https://ronbigbang.dreamwidth.org/3128.html  
>  
> 
> Well there will be quite a few notes so please bear with me.
> 
> To start off I want to give a big warm thank you and lots of hugs to my ♥support team♥ who this fic is dedicated to. You ladies are impossibly wonderful! They betaed, cheered, had coffee with and poked me until this was all done. I have so much love and big hugs for [profile] hull1984, [personal profile] songquake and [personal profile] wwmrsweasleydo that I don’t think that it could all fit I one room.
> 
> Thanks to the [profile] ronbigbang_mods who were kind enough to set up, include me in the Ron love and be so totally understanding when I asked for an extention. ♥
> 
> Now for notes about this story;  
> The one spell I made up Percunctor et estus translates to inquire to health”. I used an online latin translator.
> 
> The wizarding world is heavily patriarchic in this fic. What ever the head male says goes and even though you are legally an adult by age 17 the elders of society don’t really take you serious until you've reached 40.
> 
> In this story the hermaphrodites have both sets of functioning sexual organs. Human hermaphrodites are fictional, snails qualify as hermaphrodites. Many of the pregnant women in my family fainted because of low blood pressure or cried for the slightest provocation. So everything dealing with pregnancy is based on my observations of family members
> 
> Weasley most ceriainly and without any doubt is my Kink King.
> 
> Titles: "Inevitable", "Expectation", & "Family"  
> Artist: [personal profile] venturous1  
> Pairing: Ron/Harry, Hermione/Ron/Harry, Ron/Hermione/Harry  
> Rating: NC-17, PG,  
> Media: photoshop.  
> Artist’s Notes: For "Inevitable"-At last their passion is expressed, and Ron has nothing to hide anymore. For "Expectation"-I had a blast drawing trio, especially considering their interesting family developments! Hugs and kudos to patient mods and lovely author, and especially to Ron. For "Family"- I loved making this loving Trio.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not. ~Henri Frederic Amiel

  
  


  
_Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not._ ~Henri Frederic Amiel

  
  
**Prelude:**  
  
When I was a little kid, I remember bathing with my Brothers. Mum would shove three or four of us in the tub at a time until we could all bathe ourselves. Bath time is something I remember fondly.  
  
It was always a grand production. Mum would announce that it was bath time and the insanity began. Percy would whine that he could wash himself just fine and grumble that the twins always peed in the bath water. Fred and George would streak around the house screaming, causing havoc and making Mum chase them down one at a time, which never really worked because as soon as she got one where she wanted, the other was off like a shot. Eventually she had to resort to threats and bribery; no story before bed, early bedtime or an extra topping next time we went to Fortescues’. Me, well I always hung onto her skirts, determined to be the best behaved of all my brothers.  
  
She’d lock the bathroom door once she'd herded us all in and fill up that huge tub with hot water and powdered bubbles. We were all lifted into the tub in age order. I was first and closest to the tap. Then came George – or whichever twin decided to be George that day— and Fred. At the back of the tub was Percy, who complained that the water was always colder at the back of the tub (which it was).  
  
Mum would scrub us all, one after the next, and make us stand in the tub after she pulled the plug, before rinsing us all and wrapping towels around us, one after the next, until the lot of us were done and dry. Brushing teeth and putting on pajamas were all independent acts for us because Mum would get the kitchen sink ready for Ginny, who was too small to get in the tub with us.  
  
After a few years, Percy was allowed to bathe by himself and Ginny joined the twins and me in the tub. I was shifted back a spot; Ginny was now at by the tap and I was behind her. We were washed down like we always were and Mum said stand.  
  
It is with great embarrassment that I admit that I screamed.  
  
“She’s broke! Mum, Ginny Broke! It’s gone!”  
  
Fred and George pushed me out of the way to gawk at our baby sister. We were so frightened by the fact that Ginny’s penis broke off that we started to search the bottom of the tub. Mum laughed at us until Ginny started to cry.  
  
“I don't wanna be broked! Find it Ronnie! Find it!” She wailed and George and I patted down the bottom of the tub frantically, Fred could only stare dumbly.  
  
It was probably a loud commotion because the Dad and Percy came racing down to the bathroom. Dad looked winded and Percy was right behind him. Percy squawked and raced in staring, horrified, at Ginny. “Dad, Should I Floo-call St. Mungo’s while every one else gets dressed?”  
  
Dad let out a huge sigh and shook his head. He wrapped Ginny in a towel and handed her off to Mum, who left the bathroom, attempting to quiet her down. Dad pulled the towels off of the rack and draped the biggest one around the twins' shoulders and another towel around me.  
  
“Percy, come in here.” I caught glimpses of his face from under the towel as he dried me off. For a moment I was scared; his face was different, not smiling or amused like he usually was. He didn’t look mad like he did after that whole spider incident, but pale and drawn. “We need to talk, boys….” He smiled after he said boys, but it wasn’t a real smile but more like the smiles that we force when we would go to see Aunt Muriel.  
  
Percy came fully into the crowded bathroom and closed the door behind him. I looked off to the side and saw Fred and George helping each other to button up their pajama shirts. Dad held my nightshirt up for me, and I shoved my arms through before shrugging it on. All I could hear was the dripping of the water echoing in the room, and I shuddered. It was never quiet in this house. I knew as young as four that a quiet Burrow was a disturbed Burrow.  
  
“Dad what’s wrong with Ginny?” Percy whispered, sounding terrified and unsettled.  
  
“Nothing is wrong with her. That’s what I need to talk to you lot about.” Dad lowered the lid of the toilet and took a seat before he pulled me up into his lap and used his other hand to drag one of the twins over, knowing that the other would follow. “Ginny is a girl. Do you boys know what that means?”  
  
“That’s easy! She wears dresses instead of trousers.”  
  
“Well yes George, that’s part of it, but what it really means is that she is built differently from the rest of us.”  
  
“But I saw! She has the other parts!” I said, not understanding what he could possibly mean. Ginny was just like the rest of us only she kept her hair long and wore dresses and she was broken.  
  
“Yes Ronnie. She does have some parts like us but not the others. She was born with _only_ that part.” Dad looked at every single one of us and bit his lip the same way he always told Percy not to. “We are different from girls and different from other boys too.”  
  
Fred and George looked one another in the eye then shook their heads. “We don't understand,” they chorused. “We’re all boys!”  
  
“I know… I know…Daddy – Daddy didn’t explain it right. Let me try again, okay?” We all nodded and waited for him to continue. “Girls have vaginas, like the parts Ginny has. And boys have penises, the part that you boys all have in front.”  
  
“But Daddy,” Percy spoke up made the point we were all thinking of. “We’ve all got both. I’ve seen Charlie and Bill naked too. They’ve got both just like I do.”  
  
“I know Percy. I’ve got both, too,” he said. His voice was shaking a little and it made me nervous. “We aren’t really boys or girls. We are something different; people like us are called hermaphrodites. We are special because we have both parts.”  
  
“I never heard about that.” Percy whispered, as he picked at his nails.  
  
“I know. It's because we have to keep it a secret.” Dad swallowed and wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed me in a half hug. “It's just like that important rule I told you about.”  
  
“Do not trust anything if you cannot see where it hides its brain.” We all chorused together. That was the one rule that Dad, who was usually laid back and didn’t care much about rules, had always pushed us to remember.  
  
“Keeping this a secret is more important that even that.” We all stared at him agog and surprised. “When you all go to Hogwarts, you will be shown to the boys' dorm because your boy parts are going to keep you out of the girls' dorms and because there are no dorms for hermaphrodites.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Hermaphrodites are very rare, Fred. And usually we don't get to go to school.”  
  
“Why? Are Hermaphrodites not allowed at Hogwarts?” Fred questioned, already upset and frowning. He couldn’t wait to get his letter, Hogwarts was all Bill and Charlie ever talked about. Well, all he talked about besides Dragons and Quidditch. “I want to go to school, Daddy!”  
  
“You’ll go, you all will.” Dad reassured him, and the rest of us, “but when you go you must be careful. Only shower alone. Never let anyone see you undressed, and when you turn twelve your mum or I will explain more about your girl parts to you.” Dad talked some more, giving tips on how to stay hidden, and answered all of our questions. After Dad was done talking, he herded us downstairs for a glass of water and then to bed.  
  
That night I was restless. I couldn’t help but wonder why we were all so different from other people. Was it something that ran in our family? Was it a curse? Was it a blessing like in the stories of the old magic?  
  
I didn’t think of it again for a few years.  
  
The next time that my gender—genders? I don't really know what to refer to it as – came up, I was ten and Ginny was nine. All of our older brothers were in school or overseas completing one apprenticeship or another, and Mum had chased us out of the house so she could clean in peace.  
  
We didn’t mind being turned out of the house; it had been hot and uncomfortable. It was so hot that the chickens refused to come out of their coop and the gnomes were hiding from the sun under the porch. The grass was beginning to turn brown from the heat of the sun and the air was stale and unmoving.  
  
Catchpole is a safe, strictly-wizarding village, and a small community on top of that. Ten families, maximum, lived there and even we were spaced apart by acres of land. So Mum would let us wander all the way to the boundaries of the woods and down to the creek by ourselves.  
  
Ginny and I were making our way to the stretch of creek that fell on our parent’s property, stripping all the way and hanging our clothes on the branches of trees as we walked. It was a habit we'd learned from Bill. He always said that by the time you walked back to the next piece of clothing you were dry enough to put it on, and he wasn’t wrong on that account.  
  
“Ronnie, when you go to Hogwarts next year will you write me?” Ginny asked as she draped her knickers on a low branch.  
  
“I don't know, maybe…” I couldn’t help but to stare at her privates, they just looked so odd to me. As far as I thought, she was supposed to have more bits. “If you want me to.”  
  
I was down to my briefs when I saw the water. The creek was running gently over the smooth rocks. The banks weren’t sandy, but they weren’t muddy either. It was a strange mix of dirt and wood chips that banked the water. I was just about to strip off my pants when I caught sight of one of the boys who lived across the creek, closer to the bend in the lane that led to the Muggle town not too far from Catchpole, lounging in the water.  
  
“’Lo, Weasleys!” He called coming closer to our bank.  
  
“Hello, Christopher!” Ginny called back and treaded into the water.  
  
I waved and sat on the bank with my feet in the water. I didn’t want to go in and get my pants wet, they were white and already thin. If they got wet then I’d be completely visible. I didn’t want anyone to see. I was strange compared to the rest of the world, and I didn’t like it. That fear of being strange kept me on the bank more than the fear that I would not be able to go to Hogwarts.  
  
I watched Ginny go in with something like envy. She wasn’t supposed to swim naked if there were any boys near, but that was just part of being a proper girl. Like how Mum made her wear skirts half the time and told her to cross her legs and did up her hair with barrettes and stuff before we went to visit family during the holidays.  
  
I’d seen other boys, who weren’t my brothers—sometimes I wonder of we can really be called boys–their bits were similar, but too different to put me at ease. Their bits were settled lower than mine, and they didn’t have a slit that started just behind their bollocks.  
  
I heard Christopher tell Ginny that he had come to the creek just a few minutes ago. I knew he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon and I wouldn’t get to swim. I flopped onto my back and looked at the patches of sun that showed through the thick leaves, my feet still in the water, and dozed off. When Ginny was ready to go home, she’d wake me.  
  
When she did wake me up, the sun was going down and Christopher was walking along the opposite side of the creek, heading home. Everything glowed orange, and it made Ginny’s limp wet hair look like it was on fire.  
  
“Why didn’t you get in the water?”  
  
“I didn’t want Christopher to see me.”  
  
“That’s stupid, you’re both boys!” She threw up her hands in exasperation and rolled her eyes. “You’ve all got the same bits.”  
  
That was when I realize that Ginny didn’t remember how very different l was from other boys. I didn’t correct her; I knew that if she got mad at me she would probably blab about my strangeness just to get back at me. Don’t get me wrong, she’d feel bad afterwards, but that wouldn’t undo the damage. Everyone would know what a freak I was and I wouldn’t be allowed to go to Hogwarts like my brothers.  
  
  
**Part 01**  
  
It was more difficult to hide my differences once I got to Hogwarts. During first year I was nervous as all hell about bathing. The Hogwarts bathroom was massive. It was all one large room. There were three toilet stalls and three urinals along one wall, and a line of sinks and mirrors on the other. The showers were towards the back of the room, divided from the rest of the bathroom by a frosted glass wall. There were no shower stalls, but one large red-tiled room with ornate copper showerheads and drains on the floor.  
  
It was much too open for my taste.  
  
I took care to observe when everyone bathed and learn their pattern so that I could slip into the baths when I knew no one else was there. Seamus and Neville washed in the mornings. Dean liked to bathe just before bed. Harry was spontaneous about bathing; he bathed multiple times a day, at no given time. That was unnerving. I never wanted Harry of all people to know what I was.  
  
Bathing wasn’t the only challenge. During the weeks of summer and late spring my dorm mates would want to swim and goof off in the shallows of the lake. They would all troupe down to the edge of the lake, strip down to their skivvies and jump in. I wanted to so badly, but I always made up an excuse not to.  
  
‘Nah, I just ate’, ‘I’m tired, I’ll go have a kip over there on the grass’, and ‘maybe another day’ were my most frequent lines. After a while they just thought I didn’t like water or couldn’t swim. That suited me just fine, except for the fact that I would have loved to go swimming when the weather became unbearably hot.  
  
I had to be careful when I masturbated as well. I couldn’t impregnate myself —thank goodness for small mercies —so I never had to worry much about that. I had to worry about being caught with my pants down, a very likely and common occurrence when you live in a dorm.  
  
If someone were to catch me, it would be awful!  
  
Although I did mess about with my boy bits, the sensations from my snatch were just too good to neglect. It was a difficult and involving process to satisfy both sets of genitalia at the same time but completely worth it. There were so many sensations all at once - pressure, friction, fullness, a slow aching heat and a whole fifty other things I just could never describe.  
  
Masturbation was carefully planned around my roommates’ schedules and detentions. It was a rare thing that I had the dorm to myself and wasn’t with Harry and Hermione. I dealt with the limited time, and appreciated the minutes that I had alone that much more.  
  
It all went well until fourth year.  
  
I had been pissed off with Harry; I thought he hadn't trusted me enough to tell me that he was going to put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and I was so annoyed that I couldn’t get comfortable. I was up fiddling with some thing or another when I felt strange. My stomach began to turn and I just felt off. I got off of the bed, straightening the Gryffindor red cover and headed for the bathroom.  
  
When I walked in I glanced at the mirror and nearly screamed. There was blood on my pajama pants and Dad had mentioned something like this but hell if I could remember just then. I ran to the bathroom door and shoved one of the towel racks against it. I didn’t want anyone seeing this. There was too much of it to be a cut, but I didn’t feel wounded either. I pulled the front of my pants far enough from my skin so that I could look down and see my bits. Everything was in order and there was no pain, but the blood was coming from behind my bollocks.  
  
With a whine, I shoved the towel rack back in place and raced over to my trunk. I fished out my dressing gown and shoved my arms into it. I was half-crazy with worry. I knew I couldn’t go to Madam Pomfrey; Dad had told me to always be wary of anyone seeing what I really was.  
  
Percy had graduated and I had no way of contacting him immediately, the common room Floo was much too public, and I couldn’t think. The twins were mad at me, and I didn’t think they would help me anyway with the mood they were in lately. I was pacing back and forth on the landing for the fourth year boys dorm. I didn't even realize that Lee Jordan was on his way down until he grabbed me by the shoulder.  
  
“Ron, you alright?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. I felt like he knew, like he could see, so I wrapped the dressing gown tighter around my body, pulled back and nodded. “Oh, come on!” He snatched my arm and before I could really register what was going on I had been shoved in the sixth-year dorms and the door was shut behind me.  
  
Obviously he wasn’t convinced.  
  
Fred, George and some other guy who I didn’t know were standing there looking at me. I glanced around the room once and then my eyes were glued to my feet. The third guy took one look at me and walked out of the door. The silence was thick and I could feel my brothers communicating, in that wordless way they spoke between themselves.  
  
There was an agitated grunt, and then one of them stalked over to the far side of the room, where I knew the window was.  
  
I felt a brother’s blunt fingers wrap around the back of my neck before he tugged me forward and into his chest. That was when I knew it was George; he was quicker to forgive and a lot more physical and compassionate than Fred.  
  
“What is it, Ron?”  
  
“I can’t tell Madame Pomfrey! I’m bleeding… nothing hurts, but I’m bleeding.” I whispered, ashamed at how my voice quivered and how desperately I wanted him to make every thing better.  
  
George pushed me back a bit and tugged the strap that held my dressing gown together loose. “Oh, Ronnie… No wonder.” He pulled me over to the bathroom and shoved me into the shower, clothes and all.  
  
George stripped down and began to pull my clothes off of me. “We’ve got to wash the blood out before the house elves see. If they see, they’ll know, and if they speak about it and someone else finds out, we’ll all be in a bad way,” he explained while rubbing soap into my pajama bottoms.  
  
By the time George was done explaining everything, from dealing with the blood to spells for clean up, and done shoving potions for everything from pain and bloating to headaches, I was ready to die of humiliation. My face was red and I was wrapped up in George's old T-shirt and boxers and my dressing gown, half sprawled across his bed.  
  
“You got all that, Ronnie?” he asked me for the third time that night. I nodded and sniffed pitifully. “Alright, you’ll sleep with me tonight. I don’t want you having to worry about your sheets in the morning.”  
  
Tears were streaming down my face. I tried to stop them, but I just couldn’t. It was all so humiliating! I liked thinking of myself as male. It made things so much better for me. I hated that I couldn’t swim with my friends and that I was bleeding and was supposed to consider it normal. I buried my face into George’s stomach, wrapped my arms around his waist and held on as tight as I could.  
  
Fred was still in the room, decidedly ignoring George and me.  
  
George, ever the sweet one, ran his finger through my hair, petting me the way he had when I was little and Percy would be a berk and refuse to let me play any of the games he started. I stayed buried in George’s belly for the better part of fifteen minutes, soaking his shirt, before he wrapped his fingers around my chin and pulled my face up so that he could see my face. “What’s wrong, Ronnie? Why all the tears?”  
  
I took a deep breath and let go, slumping into my brother’s arms once again. “I hate this. I want to be a guy, like a real guy with all the right bits. I just hate this.”  
  
“Suck it up, Ron,” Fred snapped at me from across the room.  
  
“Enough,” George barked back just as quickly. He never stopped petting me. I just closed my eyes and let those two have it out. When the twins were bickering, there was nothing and no one that could stop them.  
  
“Stop babying him! We all have to put up with this shit! We deal—he can, too!”  
  
“Yeah, we deal with it, but we all went to someone for comfort too. Do you not remember forcing me to go get Percy for you?”  
  
“Yeah, but there was no pity party then!”  
  
“What pity party!? I asked my brother a question and he answered me. "Get over yourself.”  
  
“Get over myself? That takes some nerve. You’re so afraid of your body that you shut down every offer that comes your way! I have to deal with the fact that I’m stuck with only you for--”  
  
“Then find someone else to get you off!” George snarled. George’s body tensed, his hands stilled and clenched; he was angry and I could feel it. “You’re _unstuck_ with me as of right now.”  
  
There was a minute where neither one of them spoke. I just let my mind wander for a moment. It was an open secret - or suspicion in this case - that the twins were closer than what was normal, but to hear it so blatantly put was a bit shocking.  
  
“I’m sorry.” I think it was Fred who spoke. Fred and George sound exactly the same but Fred is gruffer in the way he speaks. “I didn’t mean it like that.”  
  
“Whatever, Fred. I don't care.” George nudged me so that I would scoot and closed the curtains. I fell asleep not long after that.  
  
The bleeding was uncomfortable, humiliating and just downright gross, but it wasn’t impossible to deal with, head and backaches non-withstanding. After a while, it got easier to deal with, almost normal, I guess.  
  
But after I fixed that issue another cropped up. This problem was a two-part one; A) Victor Krum and B) Cho Fucking Chang. I wanted to rip their throats out with my teeth. It was the way they began to ruin things that really got to me. Krum, as excellent a Quidditch player as he is, deserved a Bludger to the face the moment he decided to set his sights on Hermione. He made her distant and stupid—well no, nothing could ever make Hermione stupid. But he did make her giggly and secretive. The three of us, Hermione, Harry and me, were honest with each other – or as honest as we could be. But once Krum tried to force his way in, things started to change and Harry and I were left to our own devices.  
  
Harry occupied his time by making cow eyes at Cho Fucking Chang, who blew him off and flirted coyly when Diggory wasn’t looking. She loved Diggory, no doubt about it, but she loved to be desirable, too. After Cedric was murdered, she became a weeping drama queen who was desperate to find someone to fill that place which Cedric’s death had left empty. The stupid girl chose Harry. Poor Harry, who didn’t even bother to wear his heart on his sleeve; he always just gave it away freely. She was wrong for him and I knew it.  
  
While all this was going on, I occupied myself with Lavender Brown. She was not the brightest faerie in the bush (that was Hermione’s place after all). Lavender was sweet, fit, ten kinds of randy and made me feel like a real guy. She was every red-blooded man’s dream.  
  
That was what made everything more than a bit tense. I always had to think of how to deflect her. She would try to worm a hand down my pants more often than not, and I would redirect her with kisses, foreplay and once (or five times), oral sex. I made sure that I was always dressed and that she always got off. Lavender was less likely to bitch and ask questions if she was blissed out. The whole thing got old, redundant and tedious soon enough, and before winter break we were done.  
  


(-)

  
  
The holidays were when everything kind of fell into place. The pieces didn’t snap together but I realized that they were all in the same place if that makes any kind of sense?  
  
It was a few days after Dad had been admitted to Saint Mungo’s. Mum, Ginny and the twins were at the hospital, taking advantage of the afternoon visiting hours. Harry, Hermione and I had gone in the morning with Professor Lupin and were now back, helping Sirius decorate the house.  
  
Grimmauld Place was still gloomy and depressing, but it was also a lot more festive. The creepy elf heads weren’t so scary when they had over-sized Father Christmas hats perched on their heads, and the little light fairies were happy and added a warm chatter to the rooms they occupied. It was a lot better than before.  
  
“Does this look even, Ron?” Hermione asked as she squinted across the mantle.  
  
“Yeah.” It didn’t, but I wasn’t going to stay here for another twenty minutes getting it perfect. Hermione and I were stringing up garlands all around the de-doxyed drawing room while Harry, being the only one who understood how exactly the stove worked, was in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Hermione and I had finished with our task and I wanted to get out of this eerie room. “Lets go. Harry’s probably done by now.”  
  
Hermione nodded and took one last look at the garland. She gave me an exasperated half-glare and threw the Spellotape at me. I chuckled as it bounced off of my head, knowing that I had been found out.  
  
“I don't want to fix it, either.”  
  
We left the room in good humor and snickered all the way down the hall. We crossed the threshold of the kitchen at the same time Harry was coming through with a loaded tray. I guess it was coincidence or maybe even fate that all three of us were crossing the threshold at the same time. Whatever it was, none of us could budge an inch from where we stood.  
  
Harry had opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off by a groan.  
  
“Ah, shit!” The three of us turned to see Sirius standing there with an almost rueful smirk. “That wasn’t meant for you guys! Little trouble-makers.”  
  
“We didn’t do this!” Hermione was indignant, probably from being grouped in with the ‘trouble makers’.  
  
“I know you didn’t. I set up the mistletoe.” Sirius pointed. The three of us looked up and groaned in unison, sending the awful prat into full-on laughter. “Sorry, you lot can’t move until there’ve been some kisses.” Sirius just looked at us expectantly leaning against the wall as if he’d expected us to be stubborn and try get out of what was a flawless trap, or maybe he wanted to see what would happen.  
  
We all looked at each other, pink faced and embarrassed. Harry refused to look up from his shoes, Hermione was tugging at the ends of her hair and I swore up and down that my face would catch fire.  
  
Hermione was the first to move. She made that little gesture with her hand that Harry and I knew to mean ‘get on with it’.  
  
So we did. I took a deep breath and leaned over towards Harry, mindful of the tray and pressed my lips softly against his. His eyes still didn’t look up but he opened his mouth to let me maneuver just a bit more. I slid my tongue into his mouth, exploring for a few seconds before I pulled back and let him have a turn. Harry kissed slowly and nipped my lips a few times, but it was pleasant overall. When I pulled back and took a look at his face, it was beyond red and his ears were nearly purple.  
  
I waited for a second, wondering what to do. Should I turn and kiss Hermione? Or would Harry do that? I got my answer not a moment later when Hermione put her hand on my forearm and braced herself against me as she and Harry exchanged a few short soft kisses. It was interesting to watch. I had never thought Hermione would be passive, but she was. Hermione was letting Harry lead her and set the pace of the kisses. There was no tongue there, just tender kisses and deep, slow, pleasant breaths.  
  
When the pair of them pulled apart Hermione turned to me and stood on her toes. I knew what was coming next and I grinned against her lips. It was honestly funny, we fought like Crup and Kneazle, but like this we were perfectly compatible. Her lips were soft and plush, and she let me enter her mouth and do just about anything I wanted, without rushing me or letting her tongue lie there like a dead thing.  
  
We were freed from the spell and took special care not to look at Sirius, who had probably watched the whole thing with that look of intense calculation and sorrow he always wore when he saw the three of us together. What had happened wasn’t personal, or maybe it was. I don't know. All I do know is that Hermione had never moved her hand from my arm and that Harry was smiling softly with pink cheeks and an easy stance.  
  
We made our way to the parlor and settled on “our couch.” The couch was a hideous, and yet cozy, oversized loveseat that fit the three of us comfortably. I sat closest to the window with my legs tangled like a pretzel under me. Harry was pressed against my side with his legs folded neatly beside him. Hermione took up the most space with her back against the armrest, her legs over Harry’s lap, and her toes tucked under my thigh. There we sipped our cocoa and pretended to not see Remus desperately trying to escape the mistletoe before Sirius realized he was trapped (in the end I wondered why he fought so hard if he wasn’t opposed to the indecent groping and making out).  
  
The mistletoe thing niggled in the back of my mind for some time. Even after we went back to school, I found myself thinking of those kisses. I couldn’t help but reflect on how much better it was kissing Harry and Hermione than Lavender. How different Harry and Hermione were from each other. Hermione was so soft and fit into my arms perfectly. All I could think about was how loving and passionate she could be, how clever she was, and how she was spunky enough to contend with just about anything I could throw at her. When my mind turned to Harry I could remember how seamlessly his body slotted against mine. My mind brought up how loving he was, in that quiet unobtrusive way of his, how he was giving and brave and easily hurt.  
  
My thoughts decided to wander as I slipped into the large tub in the Prefect’s bathroom one night. The images were so vivid. Hermione would be naked, sprawled between Harry and me as we moved across her body in sync, touching, tasting, feeling, while she wriggled and bucked. Her hair would fly everywhere and she’d make those half-laughing gasps she made when one of us would rub her shoulders after a big test.  
  
Somehow the focus shifted so it was just Hermione and me. She was gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise as I pumped my hips hard and frantically enough to push her against the headboard while she thrashed her head and chanted my name into the air. I looked to my left and saw Harry there, his hand around his cock, watching us with those intense green eyes.  
  
Again, I found myself in a new situation; I was on my back with one arm draped over Harry’s shoulder my hand fisting his hair and pulling him closer so we could kiss easily. My other arm was between us, clutching his forearm like a lifeline as he stroked my cock and filled me up. His rhythm was slow and halting. I peered over Harry’s shoulder and saw Hermione watching us with a look that screamed smug accomplishment.  
  
That was when I came; right hand knuckle deep in my cunt and my other hand squeezing my cock. I drained the tub and let it refill for a soak and a proper wash. Half an hour later, I was wandering back to the dorm in my dressing gown. When I slipped through the portrait hole, the first thing I noticed was that most of the guys from my year were sitting by the fire. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but the time was. At two in the morning, I expected the lot of them to be asleep.  
  
“Ron.” Dean looked up first and motioned me over.  
  
“What is it? Was there another fire in the fourth year’s dorm?”  
  
Neville shook his head and dragged over a tin bucket from the fire. “Harry’s had another nightmare,” Neville whispered while he passed each of us a bottle of warmed butterbeer. “I woke up and saw him thrashing around and screaming. We didn’t see you around so Shey rang for Hermione.”  
  
I nodded and opened the bottle. Hermione and I had altered Harry’s silencing charms to extend to my bed. If he was having a nightmare or beating off I’d know. With every sip, I forced down a bit of guilt; because I wasn’t in bed Harry had to suffer a nightmare alone and the guys had to wake Hermione. Though she wouldn’t mind terribly at being woken up – she had charmed the bell herself.  
  
Hermione’s call bell was a little silver service bell. The bell itself didn’t ever ring, but I guess the sound was transferred to her earrings because once you tapped it a few times Hermione was awake and at the door to our dorm room.  
  
“Thanks, you can come up in ten.” I said before tipping the last of the butterbeer into my mouth and heading up the stairs.  
  
I pushed open the heavy oak door and crossed over to my bed. It was the farthest from the door and closest to the window. I drew all but one of the curtains closed and tied them off so they wouldn’t open on their own. Two flicks of my wand had my bed expanded in wizard space (I’m a Weasley, I know how to economize) before I pulled off my robe and made my way to Harry’s bed.  
  
Hermione had Harry sitting up. His glasses were on and he was carefully sipping the water Hermione held to his lips. He was trembling all over, terrified. His scar wasn’t pink, swollen or bleeding, so I knew it was either a dream about whatever happened in that maze or possibly something that had happened at the Dursleys'. Harry’s nightmares were something I was familiar with.  
  
I could tell that this would be one of _those_ nights.  
  
Hermione tittered nervously, afraid to touch Harry because he had probably been fighting her off before I came into the room. Harry loved to be touched —he craved it— but for some reason that he refused to ever admit he thought it was wrong to want to he held, to be needy at times. Tonight he would fight me the entire time if I gave him the slightest opening, so I didn’t.  
  
I shoved the pillows from Harry’s bed into Hermione’s arms and jerked my chin towards my bed. She understood and moved quickly to arrange the pillows, turned down the covers and slid between the sheets. Once she was settled I plucked Harry’s glasses from his face and dragged him forward toward the edge of the bed by his leg. In a move that I admit to be rather caveman-esque, I lifted him up and carried his stubborn wriggling arse over to my bed.  
  
“Ron, stop.” Harry fussed as I gently shoved him towards the middle of the bed. “I’m not eleven any more! I can sleep on my own.”  
  
“I’m sure you can.” I got in bed beside him and pulled the covers up over the three of us before I turned on my side and put my arm around Harry’s waist. He was held in place and unable to move. He didn’t really want to move either. He never did, but still he protested for form's sake and I ignored him. “Goodnight, Hermione.”  
  
“’Night, Ron.” The bed shifted as she came closer. I felt the heat of her body on the back of my hand. “’Night, Harry.”  
  
“Goodnight Harry.” I muttered and relaxed into the comfort of my bed.  
  
“No! No good night! I need to go back to my bed.” But Harry’s body was slack, and pressed between Hermione and my own. Harry was going nowhere and we all knew it.  
  


(-)

  
  
The usual morning routine for the Gryffindor boys was what kept us all from being late to class. We counted on Seamus to wake up first and nudge Dean on his way to the shower. Dean, in turn, would shuffle about the room in his morning haze, dropping at least one textbook as he prepared his bag for the day. When the shower echoed through the room, Neville would lurch up from his bed and head for the lav in a stumbling dash. Right about then, Harry would wake up and knock on my bedpost, letting me know that it was time to shake a leg.  
  
That morning none of that happened.  
  
Because the lot of us fell back to sleep at around two-thirty, we were all asleep well into the morning. We had already missed two classes by the time McGonagall yanked the door open and stormed into the room.  
  
“What in Merlin’s name! Out of bed! All of you!” was all I heard before the red velvet curtains were pulled back and the sunlight was blinding me. The others had gotten the same treatment because the moans were simultaneous. I sat up and looked around groggy and not really thinking and nudged the two other bodies in my bed, halfheartedly urging them to sit up.  
  
McGonagall stared, flabbergasted and gaping, her eyes trained on my bed.  
“MISS GRANGER!”  
  
“Ah, feck,” Seamus groaned as he stumbled from his bed and looked at us. “You were supposed to send her back to her dorm, Weasley, not keep her in yer bed.”  
  
“Shut up, Seamus,” I mumbled and shoved back the covers as I got up so McGonagall could see that we were all dressed. I was wearing pajama bottoms and Harry wore his oversized jogging shorts and sweatshirt, while Hermione was in her old navy nightgown. None of us looked remotely sexy, or anything other than tired, but that didn’t stop McGonagall from screeching at us in outrage as we stumbled through our morning routines.  
  
Hermione managed to slip out of the door unnoticed and was back, dressed properly with her bag on her shoulder raking a brush through her hair, in ten minutes. I was still fussing with my shoes and Harry had completely given up on finding his missing tie. Dean was dressed and ready, nodding off on his feet as we waited for Neville and Seamus to come out of the bathroom, showered and dressed.  
  
Once Neville and Seamus were ready, McGonagall led us out of the dorm, down the corridors and past the other whispering and snickering students, to the History of Magic classroom. I could barely hold back a laugh: she had pulled us from our beds to take a nap. She left us at the door with the order to report to Filch once classes were over for our detentions.  
  
“Well,” Dean said as he pushed open the classroom door, “at least we missed Potions.”  
  
I knew there was a reason I liked that guy.  
  


(-)

  
  
Detention wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Dean, Neville and Seamus were told to go polish everything in the trophy room by hand. While Harry, Hermione and I were assigned the Owlery, which wasn’t all that bad since owls don't shit unlike other birds. It was a short matter of sweeping out the old hay and molted feathers, mopping the floor and putting down new hay. The house elves would fill the water troughs and mouse tanks themselves.  
  
I sat in the corner of the room on a pile of fresh hay and took a deep breath. If I was lucky I could possibly doze off without moving. It didn’t take long for those hopes to be dashed. Pig was on my head bouncing around and making a nuisance of himself. I felt heat to my left and cracked open an eye. Harry was there, sitting with his knees bent and Hedwig perched on his shoulder, trying in vain to sort out his hair.  
  
“God, I can’t believe we slept through two classes.” Hermione was crouched in front of us, shaking her head in disbelief.  
  
“Sorry about that.”  
  
“Oh shut up, Harry,” Hermione grumbled and flopped forward. Her head was resting on Harry’s stomach and her hand was on my leg. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for stupid things like this. We wanted to help, so we did.”  
  
“Yeah, but —” Hermione cut him off by pressing her lips against his. I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched Harry turn red and slowly start to kiss back. I watched with mild interest as Harry’s hands found the hem of Hermione’s jumper. He hesitated for just minute before he let his fingers slip under the fabric.  
  
Hermione pulled back and let out a breathy giggle. “It tickles.”  
  
“You! Ticklish, really?” I don’t know why I was so shocked, but I was. I batted Pig away from me, sat back up and leaned forward to press my lips to Hermione’s neck. She squealed and pulled back. I couldn’t help but laugh. I flopped to the side, my head pillowed on Harry’s frighteningly thin legs. “Oi! Four-eyes, don’t just sit there looking pretty!”  
  
Harry jabbed my shoulder and grinned down at me.  
  
I’ve got to say, sometimes I really appreciate how lanky I am. Sure, it makes it hell to find a decent-fitting pair of trousers or, Merlin forbid, a shirt with sleeves, but it was all worth it when I was able to sling my arm up around Harry’s neck and drag him down to my level for a thorough snog.  
  
“Are we supposed to—”  
  
“Cripes! And I thought Hermione talked too much!”  
  
“Well it's not exactly … Normal you know.” Harry muttered, doing his best to not look at either Hermione or myself.  
  
“Belt up, Harry.” Hermione cut him off abruptly. “You’re not normal, and you can’t expect to have normal friends or friendships, either.”  
  
“But— guys…”  
  
“Harry, you’ll let me help you fight off a mass murderer, locate a Dark Lord, and convince you to go into a cave that’s home to a hundred-and-fifty-foot snake, but I’m not allowed to suck your cock?”  
  
Both Harry and I balked at that. I had never heard Hermione speak so plainly or vulgarly before. It was a bit of a turn on. Hermione sighed and pointed her wand toward the Owlery door. I heard it slam shut and the bolt slide into place. The sound was surprisingly erotic.  
  
I sat up to watch the outcome.  
  
Hermione apparently had a lot less worries about normality or consequences – or even personal space. She just reached over, snagged one of Harry’s belt loops, and hauled him forward. Her hand was down his pants before I could blink, catch up or —hell— even breathe.  
  
I scooted behind Harry and rested my chin on his shoulder so I could have a better look at his reactions and Hermione’s jerk off prowess. Harry’s face was truly interesting.  
  
Harry looked… It was an odd expression, as though he was caught somewhere between want, denial, guilt and that uninhibited pleasure that was so rare in him. Harry stood incredibly still for just a minute before his eyelids fluttered and shut. Whatever Hermione was doing must have felt incredible; Harry’s lips had parted and he was blushing. His breathing became shallow and raspy. He tried so hard to be still and quiet, but in the end he failed and turned his face into my neck. He moaned loudly despite the fact that he was biting his lips to stay silent.  
  
He looked so sweet like that, fighting himself and his obvious pleasure as he did his best to be still under Hermione’s touch. I couldn’t help but touch him. My fingers grazed the skin of his belly and chest. I scraped my nails along his skin the way I liked to do before I thumbed and pinched my nipples. Harry yowled like a cat and shuddered against my chest, spent.  
  
I looked at Harry who was lobster red and refusing to move his face from the crook of my neck then turned to Hermione. She grinned at me and came closer, climbing over Harry’s lap and straddling my thigh. While one hand was behind her, propping her up, the other was planted on the placket of my jeans, palming my erection.  
  
I could tell Hermione was just getting started.  
  
I shifted Harry’s body a bit so that he wouldn’t get in my way and I could keep my left arm around his waist while I supported Hermione with my right. She gyrated slowly against my thigh and I was doing my best to undo her buttons with my one free hand. When that failed Harry stepped in and unfastened the buttons. He tugged the belt loops gently, causing them to slip down over her hips and bunch mid thigh.  
  
I was actually surprised to see Hermione in pink lacy underwear. I guess it never dawned on me that she was really a girl. And no, I never thought she was a man, but I just couldn’t picture her in lace knickers. Let alone pink lace knickers. It really was a nice surprise.  
  
I rubbed the back of my knuckles along the fabric, loving the texture and as I got further away from her stomach, the damp press of flesh against my hand. I wriggled my finger into the side of the barely there fabric and pet her fuzzed folds with two of my fingers, eagerly slipping past the outer area and into a moist and slick part of her cunt. My fingers were suddenly inside of her. The heat was insane and the grip on my fingers was absolutely obscene. With a stuttering groan Hermione lifted herself up and shifted until she found a more comfortable spot to sit.  
  
Harry was more into it then I was. He had somehow in this odd exchange managed to lay on his stomach, while still lying across my lap tugging at Hermione’s knickers and kissing her fleshy second lips until she couldn’t make a single sound. She moved her hips with a desperate rhythmic movement. I was painfully hard but I could barely let it register.  
  
Hermione was in her own little world, her own happening and she dragged me there with her.  
  


(-)

  
  
  
Things were good.  
  
Harry, Hermione and I were closer than ever, in more ways than one, but we kept our sexual forays quiet and short. It never went beyond heavy petting and mutual masturbation, finger fucking and oral sex. Well… Oral for the other two, I wanted their faces nowhere near my bits.  
  
It was amazing how quickly you pick up the tricks and understanding it takes to make someone scream. If you scratched the small of Hermione’s back while you kissed she’d just about purr. The outer part of Harry’s ears are desensitized because of his glasses but the lobes are ultra-sensitive: if they’re licked, sucked or blown on, he’s as hard as steel almost instantly. I loved watching their reactions and learning their bodies. Watching them twist and writhe underneath me in satisfaction became my pleasure since I wouldn’t let them get much closer to my bits than a few gropes or kisses over the thin fabric of my pants.  
  
Harry and Hermione did try to get me completely naked or worm their way into my shorts a few times. They didn’t succeed though; I was good at distracting them, and after about a month or so I got so good at turning the tide that I could stop the grabs at the waistband of my boxers before they were more than fluttering touches.  
  
To completely turn Hermione’s attention away from my pants, I had to be three knuckles deep in her cunt with my tongue working overtime. Harry took less convincing to pry away from the subject of my privates. Sucking him off wasn’t enough; to really distract him I had to have a finger in him poking at that little nub that made him gasp and squirm. Not that that was easy to get to, before I could even try to slip in a finger or two in I had to rim him and rub his thighs long enough to make him relax.  
  
It seems like I spent most of our escapades on my knees; whether we were necking in broom cupboards or sneaking out by the lake, it always ended the same: Harry and Hermione stated and naked while I loitered around in my pants, the three of us sprawled out with stupid grins.  
  
It was good for a while.  
  
We were able to put everything behind us when we were together.  
  
Hermione would unwind and became still when she pressed herself against Harry’s side. Content in the knowledge that he was alive and here and next to her, she would prop her head up on his shoulder. Then she would chatter at me, asking all kinds of questions about parts of the Wizarding world that to me seemed like common sense. Harry’s shoulders loosened as the weight of the Wizarding world, the stress of the DA and the cruelty of Umbitch fell away. He lay content between Hermione and me. Sometimes he’d look guilty and ask us if this was normal— if it was right.  
  
Whenever the topic came up, I’d pull him on top of me and kiss him softly so that I could see his brilliant green eyes go huge, the way they always did when we kissed him, like he couldn’t possibly believe someone wanted to touch him, let alone kiss him.  
  
“Ron…” he’d mutter when I started to pull away for a breath.  
  
“Harry, if it makes you happy, it can't be wrong.”  
  
Hermione would somehow worm her way between us after that. No matter if we were standing, sitting or lying down so that she could suck hickies on to our necks before she started in on her lecture. “We are in what’s called an ‘Alternative Relationship,’ Harry.”  
  
“I know Hermione, you told me last time.”  
  
“In some countries it was a norm for a man to have two wives or more! Why shouldn’t we turn the tables, yeah?” She’d smirk and climb on top of Harry as she undid his trousers with whatever hand she had free.  
  
By the end of Fifth Year, after exams and when the fiasco at the Ministry was over and done with, we had come closer than ever before. We'd got intimate not only through sex, but through our support of each other and the fear of losing each other. Hermione’s scars were new, but I had already traced them multiple times. Harry’s scars were soul deep and, though I couldn’t see them, I tried my best to soothe them.  
  
We never slept apart anymore. I never even let Harry make what used to be the obligatory pretense of going to bed alone. I took his hand and led him to my bed when the day was over and bullied him under the covers. There were night terrors, crying jags and even the occasional grief-fueled tantrum, but I didn’t care.  
  
I had seen the dead look in Remus’ eyes when he realized that Sirius was gone. He was in an all too real and common hell that I never want to approach. Remus and Sirius were best friends on the surface, but I could tell ever since the Shack that they were more than that. They touched each other and basked in each other’s presence just like my mum and dad do. I would never be able to handle it if Hermione or Harry were taken away from me like that.  
  
From the day Hermione and I were released from the infirmary, Harry refused to let us get too far. Hermione was kept within reaching distance until she climbed the stairs to the girls' dorms and I was to never move out of his line of sight. We lived in each other’s pockets and kept the DA as close as possible.  
  
Something about the danger drove us together harder and made our touches deeper and desperate. Every spare moment we got we were at it like rabbits. By the time we stepped off of the Express in June, there wasn’t a single part of Harry or Hermione’s body that I wasn’t perfectly intimate with.  
  
**Part 2**  
  
I was in a mood by the time we got to the Burrow.  
  
I had watched Harry change into those awful parachutes that he tried to call clothes and get growled and shoved off to the car park by his great arse of an uncle. I knew how they treated him. I had told Dad and even the Headmaster, but somehow he always went back there the next summer.  
  
I was constantly worried for Hermione. Her parents, being Muggle and all, can’t ward a house. She couldn’t either, without getting expelled or something. Now that the Death Eaters weren’t even trying to hide, it would be nothing for them to find Hermione’s house and kill everyone in it. Not to mention that if I were You-Know-Who it would seem like the next logical step, attacking Harry where he was vulnerable and throwing him off balance.  
  
Needless to say, I wasn’t in good humor on the way home but I was even less thrilled to get there, only to find out I’d be rooming with the twins so that my bedroom could be given to Bill’s fiancée Fleur. It pissed me off so much that I went to go ask Mum why she couldn’t just stay with Ginny.  
  
I had stormed into the kitchen just to be dumbstruck by Fleur. She was gorgeous and I couldn’t seem to get a single thought across my brain; everything just blanked out completely and I was ready to give her everything and more. I watched her and Mum snipe at each other before Fleur stormed out. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings and un-stick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.  
  
I opened my mouth to complain to Mum when I noticed how irritated she was. Mum’s movements were brisk and short. She slammed the knife down through the potatoes so hard that the table shook. I slid up next to her and took the knife silently and started cutting up the spuds.  
  
“You alright, Mum?”  
  
“Why _her_ , Ronnie?” Mum said tiredly as she hauled the meat for the roast over to the counter. “That girl…She’s not right for Bill.”  
  
“He seems to think she’s just fine.”  
  
I got a half hearted shove and a sigh, “Of course! He’s smitten with the damn girl. But she’s got nothing for him! She can't cook, she’s not going to touch the laundry—I bet she won't want children so that she can keep that little figure of hers.” Mum scoffed. I swore I heard a little resentment in there. “Not to mention she’s too showy.”  
  
“What’s that got to do with anything?”  
  
My mother stopped rubbing the herb blend into the meat and looked me in the eye. She looked drawn and worried, the little lines on her forehead were deepening and her lips were pressed thin. “Think, Ronald. I need you to focus for a moment.”  
  
Mum spoke in an urgent whisper and I could only nod and give her my full attention.  
  
“Your brother is just like you. All of you, except for Ginny, are the same.”  
  
I frowned a bit, I knew that much but I couldn’t understand her point.  
  
“Hermaphrodites are rare, Ron. You all are sought after like never-fading invisibility cloaks, you are few and far between. Not to mention that generally Hermaphrodites produce magically strong children. If the wrong person finds out about any of you, it is only a matter of time before they find out about the rest of you.  
  
"They will take you all from me, they might hurt you and no one would care a whit because they would all be waiting for their turn. I will not allow that to happen, Ron.”  
  
“But, Ginny’s not--”  
  
“She carries the gene. Just like I do.” Mum briskly rubbed down the meat and layered the chopped veg in the casserole dish. “I told you before that your father and I eloped.”  
  
“Yeah, Mum. I remember.” I would never forget; that had been one of the stories Mum and Dad told us when we were still ankle biters. It was their fairy tale and the epic romance that my siblings and I held on to.  
  
“There was more to it then what I told you. The Weasleys they were going to marry your father off to a very wealthy pureblood man in Sweden. Arthur didn’t want to go, and the man was nearly eighty had had two other wives and children older than we were at the time, but his pockets were deep and his parents were greedy enough to sell their son.  
  
"I was supposed to marry Lucius Malfoy but I didn’t want to. Malfoy women don't get to raise their own children, ‘it's unbecoming and that’s what nannies are for!’” Mum spat out sharply. “Malfoy women also aren’t allowed to pursue careers of their own; they are trophy wives and brood mares. I had my own dreams and desires. So did your father.”  
  
I nearly choked on my tongue. This was nothing like the story of true love, sacrifice and magic that I recalled. Everything made a lot more sense now: Malfoy’s hatred of my father, why my parents have never once taken us to see our grandparents even though they’re alive, and why we are poor purebloods.  
  
“Don't misunderstand, Ron, we love each other. We always have, since we were children. However we were stuck in a bad situation and had to find our own way out. Then we protected ourselves as best we could.” She gave me a grim smile and made her way to the sink to wash her hands. “Why do you think your brother’s name is William?”  
  
I left the kitchen as fast as I could and stole into the den. There was a book there that I remember mum poring over when I was almost too young to remember. I skimmed the shelves until I found the right volume. I pulled it down and left the house, taking refuge from family secrets. I wandered for nearly an hour before I sat against a tree and cracked open the book of baby names and their meanings.  
  
_William: German origin. Helmet, protection. Charlie: Derived from Charles. Free man._  
  
I knew the law, all pureblood children did. If you married against your parent’s wishes they could dissolve the marriage. If you had a child then the families would be have to choose who claimed the child and took them on as a part of the family tree. If there was a second child, the married couple was no longer bound to their families unless they chose to be. If what Mum told me in the kitchen was any indication of my great grandparents' personality, neither side had quit trying to claim Bill because he was the offspring of a Hermaphrodite, not to mention being one himself.  
  
The fact that my parents' fairy tale love story wasn’t true was for some reason really disturbing. I don’t know why it bothered me so much. I mean, I’m enough to know fairy tales are never real, but it really did eat at me.  
  
In most pureblood families there is a tendency to treat marriage vows as a contract negotiation. I had thought my family was different, that because we were poor and had nothing to bring to the table but ourselves, marriage would take on a sacredness of its own. But I was wrong, it was just a tool for my mum and dad too.  
  
Sure, they’re happy now, but what about before? Were they awkward and odd with each other or— it made no sense to wonder about it now. With a heavy breath I flipped to a random page and began skimming through the names trying not to think. “ Faith, Faline, Fallon, Faricam, Farrahm, Fatima, Faustine, Fawn, Faye… ”  
  
Two hours and countless names and definitions later, I was ready to head back home and pretend my mother and I had never had that conversation. As I got closer to the house I recognized Fleur sitting on the porch. It wasn’t hard to know it was her; she was the only blonde in a house full of gingers. She sat with her chin propped in her hand as she hexed the little Gnomes as they scurried towards her in adoration. I was too far to make out her face, which was a plus because I didn’t want to be a jabbering fool.  
  
I turned on my heel and walked toward the shed. The brooms were all old but sturdy. I snatched up two, tossed the book behind a paint can and carried them back to the house. Fleur was already gone; Fred was sitting in her place. I threw the broom on the grass in front of him and mounted the one in my hand. The game of air-chase was quick and involving. It blotted out everything from my mind, which was just what I needed.  
  


(-)

  
  
As usual, Hermione came to the Burrow before Harry did. Hermione’s father dropped her off, waiting until she entered the house to drive off. Hermione hugged Mum and Ginny first, spoke to Fleur in French, turned down the twins’ offer for a sweet and made me lug her trunk up to Ginny’s room.  
  
“So…. Fleur?”  
  
“Nope.” I said promptly. I didn’t know the question but I did know the answer! Whenever Hermione used that tone I knew that the answer was no. No, nope, nu-uh, absolutely not and No!  
  
She made a half humming half grunting noise and patted the space besides her on the cot that I had put up not even an hour ago.  
  
“Nah, you and I would be too much weight. That thing hasn’t been new since before the rise of Grindelwald and will fall apart at any moment.”  
  
“You had to set this thing up, right?”  
  
“Yeah, so I know how many pieces it's really missing. If Ginny had any sort of heart, she’d share her bed with you.”  
  
“I don’t want to share a bed with Ginny. She may be a red head but she’s not my type.” Hermione bumped me with her hip and I grinned at her and she took my hand and pulled me into the hall. “I’ve been stuck in my dad’s car for the last five hours. Let’s go walk around for a bit.”  
  
“Yeah, alright.” I let her lead the way to the back door and then realized that she had left her shoes by the front door. Before I could say anything, Hermione was already walking off the porch and into the grass. I shrugged and followed. I hadn’t expected Hermione to walk through the woods barefoot, but that was what she did. I was used to the grass and twigs and other random things that covered the loamy soil so I never really worried about shoes unless it was winter or I was leaving my family’s property; none of us really did.  
  
“So what have you been doing for the last few weeks?”  
  
“Nothing, really,” I mumbled, and felt her fingers slide into the gaps between my own. I squeezed her hand gently and relished the way she leaned into my side. “Just the usual stuff: dodging the twins' pranks, any arguments and just staying out of the way.”  
  
“I would think you liked being around your family.”  
  
“I do. Just smaller doses. There’s no privacy here, especially since Fleur took over my room.”  
  
“So who are you bunking with?”  
  
“Fred and George, Who else?”  
  
“You poor thing.”  
  
“Gonna kiss it better?” I inquired, wagging my eyebrows. It was meant to be a stupid joke but Hermione took it as more and guided our intertwined hands to her hip. She stood on her toes to kiss my lips.  
  
The canopy of trees mottled the sun but Hermione still glowed. Her clear brown eyes looked almost gold and her hair was blonde in the choppy rays of the sun  
  
Hermione pressed her free hand against my chest and allowed it to drag down the too-thin fabric of my shirt. I knew she could feel all of the contours of my body; I had never had visibly defined muscles but they could be felt easily under her fingertips. My arm circled Hermione’s waist and pressed her against me. Hermione tipped her face towards me and I lowered my head to press my lips to hers.  
  
When her hand had sipped past my waistband, I gasped. I wasn’t expecting that to happen so quickly but it did and I had no time to recover or pull back before Hermione went deeper and curled her fingers around my cock. I inhaled sharply, taking in the taste of Hermione.  
  
It was so intense. Before that moment I had been the only person to touch my cock, and then half the time it wasn’t anything more than a customary scratch or washing. I had never thought or known how good having another’s hand on you could feel.  
  
Hermione had somehow opened the placket of my trousers and was steadily pumping my cock as she kissed and sucked on my lips while I heaved and panted for air. I could barely breathe and thinking was completely out of the question. I came before I could even register what was happening. My underwear was wet and sticky and uncomfortable but I could barely care.  
  
Hermione drew her hand out of my pants and looked at the jizz on her hand with something close to wonder or maybe astonishment. She brought a glistening finger to her mouth and poked out her tongue like a cautious cat. She dragged her tongue across the pad of her finger and grimaced.  
  
“What’s it like?”  
  
“Dunno, bitter and something else too… wanna try?”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
Hermione threw back her head and laughed at me. But I couldn't care less. I fit my hands to her hips and tugged her close to me. I wanted to feel her against me before I sank to my knees and worshipped her cunt.  
  
July passed quickly, with a lot of long walks make-out sessions, and a gratuitous amount of tomfoolery. I don’t think there was anything left to do that didn’t involve actual penetration. I got quite good at making her utter those odd little noises, and it was a for vanity’s sake that I never stopped sensation until I was sure that she got off. I know how sensitive female bits are and how long it takes to come anything close to an orgasm.  
  
I believe that is called empathy.  
  
Teaspoon my arse, Hermione. Teaspoon my arse.  
  


(-)

  
  
Harry showed up late at night. I heard him come up the steps and sit down on the camp bed like he usually did.  
  
“You have to know that I won't let you sleep on that awful thing,” I rumbled, still half asleep. I shoved the blankets down and rolled to the side. “Bring your pillows and come here.” He put up the obligatory fuss, but in the end he laid beside me and we nodded off together.  
  
The next morning we were all awake around the table, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Hermione badgered Harry into telling her what assignments he had completed and Harry humored her while he rubbed Hedwig’s mantle. Having Hedwig at the table drove Mum mad but she’d never say anything to Harry about it.  
  
Anyone who knows Harry knows that he practically worships his owl. There’s never been a more spoiled bird. Harry was known to send Dobby to Diagon Alley for the white mice Hedwig preferred and sometimes even little rabbits. She had her own perch and nest box in the Owlery and ate breakfast with Harry everyday without fail.  
  
It was sweet, in an odd way.  
  
Breakfast was over, and the three of us were turned out of the house so Mum could clean and do whatever else it was that she did during the day. I led the way out back and grabbed the bucket that hung on the wall.  
  
“You know, I’ve always wondered— why chickens?” Harry asked as I filled the pail with feed.  
  
“Who the hell knows? We never eat them, only their eggs.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’ve a whole flock. Do you guys sell their eggs?”  
  
“Nope.” I gave the pail over to Hermione who seemed eager to toss the grain into the pen. “I reckon Mum just likes them.”  
  
We dawdled in the yard, doing a little of everything but mostly nothing until we decided that it wasn’t too early to slip into the woods. After we disappeared through the trees and were far enough away from the house, we walked more naturally, slowly and with touches between us. I slipped my hand into the back pocket of Hermione’s jeans and Harry shyly laced his fingers through mine.  
  
The trees above us got thick and the light filtered down in uneven and shifting patches. The brook was in earshot, and I didn’t really want to go any farther and risk anyone seeing the three of us together. If there was one thing I'd learned after last year, it was that the media would go to any lengths for the inside scoop on The-Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
Hermione pulled away from us and, as if she were reading my mind, settled herself under a tree. I followed suit, sitting across from her and pulled the Boy Wonder down between Hermione and me.  
  
“You know, it’s been two months since I’ve seen you last, and you’ve not even kissed me, Harry!” Hermione leaned forward, her hands splayed in the grass, hair wild and gleaming in the patchy light. Hermione’s breasts were easily seen; the V of her jumper seemed deeper in this position and I just couldn’t look away.  
  
“Hmm. I should fix that then, huh?” Harry murmured, his eyes hooded and focused on hers, a slow smirk spreading across his face.  
  
“I would think so.”  
  
“Well then, I guess I have to. I’ve not known you to get such important things wrong.”  
  
I almost fucked up and mentioned Scabbers, I was able to keep my mouth shut and watch the pair of them trade kisses. The two of them together was always something special to watch. They were never rushed – it was like all their interactions were made of savory sensual sensations. Nothing like the rushed, half-wrestling tumbles I enjoyed when Harry was fresh off the pitch, or the rare times that Hermione was willing to sneak into an empty classroom and twist my brain and body to new adrenaline-and-dirty-talk-fueled heights. It was closer to those rare nights when the Astronomy Tower was empty and we reveled in all each of us had to offer.  
  
Harry’s hand had moved from his lap to Hermione’s waist and I watched as he fingered the little patches of skin that showed whenever her jumper rode up even the lightest bit. Those hands slowly disappeared under the pale wool, and I just knew that Harry was going to unhook her bra.  
  
Hermione was wriggling obscenely as she shifted up onto her hands and knees. The two separated just enough to draw breath before they started in again. This time it was hotter: they were nipping and biting, turning each other’s lips and necks red with their semi-coordinated nibbles.  
  
I couldn't stand watching a minute more. I moved closer, pressing myself flush against Hermione’s back. I could feel her shallow pants and the tightness of her muscles. I wrapped my arms around her waist and reached toward the placket of Harry’s denims. I didn’t even have to fumble with any stupid buttons for once. I groped him a few times through the fabric, slipped one hand past the cloth of his pants and rubbed and gripped his cock with as much care as I could.  
  
My free hand snaked up the front of Hermione’s shirt, and I kneaded one of her breasts lightly as I lapped at the shell of Hermione’s ear, making her still and moan in a completely indecent way. That long, breathless moan jump-started Harry into action. Suddenly he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. He shoved the clothing off his legs as fast as he could, not even pausing to kick off his shoes first.  
  
I stripped Hermione of her top while she pushed back against me. As soon as the jumper was over her head, she turned to me and started on the buttons of my shirt. I laid on my back looking up at her and I couldn’t fight the goofy grin that plastered itself on my face. Her hair was more wild and bushy than ever before. Her face was pinched in a frustrated and focused expression as she tackled the irritatingly small buttons.  
  
‘Mione’s skirt was rucked up to her hips. She wasn’t wearing knickers and the thatch of hair between her legs had been trimmed into an oddly intricate design —figures that she would have to excel at that, too. I was struck dumb when I realized that her breasts were loose and swaying with her every move. Her nipples were perky, and such a lovely brown that I felt the urge to put my mouth on them.  
  
I pressed my hand against her chest and pushed her back. It was amazing to see Hermione arch backward like that. Her legs were still folded as if she were still straddling me, but her back was flat on the ground, Her arms reached up to catch Harry and pull him down over her so she could practically fuck his mouth with her tongue.  
  
I kissed her collarbone and made her skin red with little bites and sucks until I came to those lovely little nipples. Again she moaned, but this time she wasn’t the only one. Harry, despite being occupied with Hermione, had managed to get his hands on the buttons of my jeans. I shoved his hand away, barely thinking anything of it, until he pulled away, completely yanking Hermione from her lusty haze.  
  
“What’s wrong, Harry?” she asked, shifting so that she was propped up on her elbows and moving so her legs were no longer folded underneath her.  
  
“If you aren’t into me like that, you should have just said so.”  
  
“Wait, what? Hermione was into that. Can’t you tell?” I admit, it took me a minute to realize that Harry was talking to me. In my defense, most of my blood had long ago left my brain and was hanging around further south.  
  
“If we're only going to do this because Hermione likes it-”  
  
“Do what? I was into it, you were into it, Hermione was into it. What's the issue?”  
  
“You won't let me touch you, Ron.” Harry jerked a hand towards me, I looked down and suddenly realized I was still for the most part dressed. My pants were done up, my shirt, while pushed back, wasn’t off. “Every single time I try to, you distract me, push my hands away or suddenly have the urge to suck my cock!”  
  
Fuck.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Fuckfuckfuck!  
  
“Look, it’s not like that at all. I’m just— just—” I couldn’t even figure out what to say. I was tripping over words like a gnome over turnips. “Look.”  
  
Hermione looked at me, then Harry, then me again, I could practically hear the wheels in her head turning.  
  
“You too?” Hermione piped in. I couldn’t help but cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath; they were acting like I wasn’t even there. “I just assumed he was body shy or something.”  
  
“Come on Ron, it can't be that small. You’ve showered with…” His voice trailed off, and I felt him come closer to me.  
  
I dragged my hands down my face, praying that this only be a wet dream gone horrendously bad when I opened my eyes. I had no such luck. When I opened my eyes, I had Harry’s face just inches from me, his green eyes studying me as if seeing me for the first time in a long while.  
  
“You’ve never been in the shower at the same time as anyone else… not that I can remember.”  
  
“Sure I have.”  
  
Harry snorted in a way that clearly meant ‘ _pull the other one – it has bells!_ ’. Disbelief I expected; for him to just reach forward and start in on the buttons of my trousers wasn’t something I'd counted on. I stood there frozen for a moment before I pushed his hands away again.  
  
“Ron, just tell me what’s wrong. Are you shy? Is it freckled? Because to tell you the truth, I kind of expected that.”  
  
“Yes, it's freckled; no, there’s not a problem!” I snapped.  
  
“Is it small?” Both Harry and I turned to Hermione with looks of affront and blatant disbelief that Hermione— Little Miss Tact— would say something like that.  
  
“No, it’s not small!”  
  
“Then show us. It’s nothing that Hermione hasn’t seen or I don’t have.”  
  
I didn’t know whether I should laugh or cry. It was so stupid! We should have all been shagging like rabbits, or at least those two would go at it like bunnies while I maneuvered from the outside of the pairing. But instead, here I was, trying to keep my best friends from knowing what a complete freak I was.  
  
“For love and misery, Ron, quit it with the suspense!” Hermione wasn’t as patient or willing to wait as Harry. She shoved me backwards with both hands and pulled my clothes off, slapping my hands away when I went to shove hers off. Before I could try again, I felt the cool summer air on my skin and closed my eyes. I crossed my arms over my face and took a deep breath. There was no way out of this now. It was all over. I stayed perfectly still, refusing to move, hoping that I’d turn invisible. I knew it wouldn’t work; my accidental magic just set things ablaze when I was in a bad temper and always at an inopportune time.  
  
The silence was awful. I could feel their eyes on me and I could hear their gasps. But the lack of talking is what scared me the most. Harry and Hermione were probably disgusted with me. I wasn’t normal in any way, shape or form, I was a Halfling in the worst of ways- there was nothing that could possibly change the way I was. On top of that I'd lied and let them believe that I was normal all this time.  
  
“Oh my God.” Hermione’s whisper echoed through the forest as if it were a canyon. “How is this possible?”  
  
“Hermione,” Harry snapped, “We turn mice into tea cups! Stop and think for a second.”  
  
“Is this why, Ron?” Her voice seemed to thunder in my ears even though I knew she was whispering. I just couldn’t move, couldn’t talk… All I could do was breathe, and then I barely managed even that. “Does it all work? Is it all connected— it’s fascinating really. Do you menstruate?”  
  
Fuck! I mean, really, shut up, Hermione.  
  
“Hermione, shut up.” For about half a minute I though Harry could read my mind. That hypothesis was shot to hell once I felt blunt callused fingers on the skin of my inner thigh.  
  
I knew they were Harry’s hands; they were impossibly warm, square, and they scraped my skin lightly even though he was being gentle. They squeezed slightly and trailed up lightly to the source of my shame. I hadn’t expected for either of them to touch me —Harry even less so – but he did. It wasn’t like anything else. I had touched myself, frequently, and always with a certain lust driven carelessness that seemed to appear with masturbation.  
  
Harry’s movements were deliberate and careful. His hands were firm against my skin. I don’t know why, but having him touch me was better than touching myself had ever been. His hands circled the entrance of my cunt and I jerked my hips to the side. I don’t know if I was trying to get away or what, I just had to move. Harry paid the shift no mind and I felt him wiggle one finger in, rubbing and coaxing me open to more.  
  
I was at least ten times as sensitive under Harry’s deft hands. But I was completely incoherent under his tongue.  
  
“What the fuck!” I was spurred into action by the sensation. My thighs slammed together and I was propped up on my forearms, looking down at Harry. I knew I must have been blushing harder than ever before. It was so embarrassing and completely confusing. Harry was looking at me, my cock right next to his face, his fingers deep in my cunt.  
  
“You don’t like that?”  
  
“Do you always go licking strange things!?”  
  
“Ron, it's not all that strange. I’ve done it before, you watched.”  
  
“Yeah but Hermione doesn’t—“  
  
“No she doesn’t have a cock but I’m pretty sure I do.” When he pinned me with those eyes, I knew I wouldn’t be able to turn away; his green eyes trapped me. “Granted, I’ve never seen both on the same person before, but it doesn’t matter to me, Ron. You’re still you.”  
  
Harry leaned forward and kissed me before I could even open my mouth again. I thought vaguely about how gross it should be to taste my own cunt, but I shrugged it off once Harry started fingering me again.  
  
I’m not too clear on how it happened —I blame the sensation overload— but in the end I was balls deep in Hermione, who was seated on my cock and sprawled on my chest with her arms tight around my shoulders. Her face pressed into the nape of my neck, where I was sure I was going to have bruises from her teeth. Harry must have been built for endurance because even though Hermione and I were completely spent and fucked stupid, he was still going strong. My legs were splayed wide and his thighs were kind of propping up my lower half as he angled into my cunt just right on each thrust.  
  
The friction had hurt a bit, but not in a bad way. I knew I’d feel it later when it was time to move, but until then…  
  


  


[](http://pics.livejournal.com/ronbigbang_mod/pic/0000a6k0/g27)  
---  
Inevitable,   art by[](https://venturous1.dreamwidth.org/profile)[ **venturous1**](https://venturous1.dreamwidth.org/)  
  
  
  
When Harry was done, the three of us sprawled on the grass lethargically. Everything was quiet and still when I realized I was still completely naked and not freaking out.  
  
“So.” I turned my head to face Hermione, who had finally pulled her face from my poor mauled neck to speak.  
  
“Do you menstruate or not?” I couldn’t even blame Harry for laughing. I was too.  
  


(-)

  
  
I said my good-byes at the platform and waved to my parents as the train pulled off. I had felt muzzy all morning and I was exhausted. I had stayed up late the night before and was dead on my feet, but still I was standing in the front car with the other Prefects and Professor Flitwick, who was the train’s chaperone this trip.  
  
I slouched in my chair as the Head Boy gave his speech; a general recap of last year, the new rules or changes, and who was taking the first shift of the year. I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes against the rocking of the train.  
  
“Ron, are you alright?”  
  
I heard a voice in my ear and turned to see Melody, a Ravenclaw prefect hovering at my shoulder while Hermione sat across from me looking equal parts disapproving and concerned. “Yeah, thanks.” I nodded for a second and then stopped when my head spun. “I’ve got a bit of a head ache. Couldn’t turn off yesterday.”  
  
She gave me a sympathetic smile and continued to ignore Darcy’s speech about the dangers of not steering the firsties away from the fifth floor swamp.  
  
I made a few rounds, barely able to keep my eyes open as I passed from car to car. The first three cars were almost always firsties and they were pretty timid and quiet so I had no problems whatsoever. It didn’t take long for me to find the car I had left Harry in and doze off.  
  
The dream I had was trippy. I was sitting at the head table in the Great Hall next to ferret face Malfoy and eating black rabbits. I woke up feeling more tired than before the nap and hated the train for a few good minutes. Luckily enough my head ache and nausea was gone.  
  
I didn’t see Harry when I left the train but I hadn’t thought much of it. He was probably in a carriage with Neville or Luna or maybe even one of our roommates. So I rode up to the school in one of the last carriages with Hermione and some random 'Puff. It wasn’t until we walked into the Great Hall and went to sit at his sides at our table that we realized that he wasn’t there.  
  
Hermione told McGonagall that Harry was MIA, and she told us to wait, that the train was currently being checked for any sleeping or missed students. It was a tense half-hour before Snape walked in with Harry at his shoulder. There was a little bit of blood on Harry’s face, but I didn’t question it, not where everyone could hear.  
  
He slid into place between Hermione and me and started to pile up his plate.  
  
We followed suit and started in on our now cold food. I grimaced at the metallic taste in my mouth and lost most of my appetite. It didn’t matter much anyway; I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.  
  
Things went the same way they usually did; classes were long, essays were tedious, Snape and Harry were at each other’s throats and Quidditch tryouts were coming up. Every time I thought about it, I got nauseous. My mouth would start to water and I could taste bile, which was annoying as all hell because Quidditch was all I thought about.  
  
The day of tryouts I was a wreck. I could barely catch anything, my head was spinning and I felt like I was going to throw up. But I had apparently done better than the others because I made the team and they didn’t complain.  
  
I guess my name finally worked to my advantage there, Weasleys were always on the Gryffindor house team. Quidditch and having babies by the dozen were what we were known for. I expected complaining about nepotism and all that jazz.  
  
The team and the lot that had tried out all hit the showers. I was shocked that the locker room had shower stalls, but I guess if there is a co-ed team, you can't have just dorm-like shower rooms. I washed up and dressed in the same stall; there was too many people here for me risk anything (not that I would).  
  
I left the stall only to run into Harry, who was still pretty much naked with only a towel around his hips. I couldn’t help but to look him over appreciatively. Wet and naked looked good on him. His glasses weren’t on his face; they were useless in the heat of the locker room as the steam fogged them up hopelessly.  
  
“You’ve got to be the most modest person I’ve ever known, Ron.”  
  
“Well of course. I mean, no need to go around telling people how fantastic I am. It would only make them jealous.” Harry pretended not to crack a smile as he rolled his eyes. “Nah, I’m just a bit body-shy… I’m not…I’m freckled everywhere, you know. Not a good look.”  
  
“I don’t mind the freckles, all that much.” I turned and saw Hermione standing in the door way, grinning. “It goes along with the whole ginger thing,” she teased me while she blatantly eyed up Harry.  
  
“Good point.”  
  
“Oi, shut up you two.” I shoved Harry lightly as he fell into step besides me. “Some red heads don’t have any freckles at all.”  
  
“Then they got into the Manic Panic!” Harry quipped, threading his arm through mine as Hermione practically pranced in front of us.  
  
Hermione snickered and I was lost. Apparently it must have been really funny because had she lagged for a moment to laugh and fell into step with us.  
  
It must be one of those Muggle things; they had weird names and even weirder uses. Like the felly-tone, what good was a conversation if you can’t talk face to face? Just write a letter!  
  
We passed the Whomping Willow, and a few second-years when I noticed that something felt off. Hermione had stopped laughing and she looked really pale. Before I could ask if she was all right she pitched forward.  
  
Harry —bless him and his kneazle-like reflexes— snatched the back of her jumper and held her up just long enough for me to get a hold of her.  
  
“’Mione, ‘Mionie… OI!” I couldn’t think of anything to do but shake her. Which apparently didn’t help, she was still out cold. “Fuck, fuck… Harry, what the hell happened?”  
  
Hermione’s body lifted into a horizontal position slowly and she hovered there in front of me. Her face was pale, the areas under her eyes were dark, her hair was glossy and her cheeks, oddly enough, looked fuller.  
  
“ _Mobilicorpus._ ” The incantation strapped Hermione to an invisible stretcher. “We’ve got to get her to Pomfrey.”  
  
I nodded and rushed to the other side of Hermione. I could protect her from this side while Harry had the other. We took off at a run, unwilling to allow whoever had tried to kill her a second chance.  
  
Harry and I burst into the infirmary out of breath and calling for Madam Pomfrey, who came running out of her office (I had no idea that old battle axe could move so quick) with her wand at the ready.  
  
“Mr. Potter! What’s happened?” She somehow took control of the spell and maneuvered Hermione’s limp body to the far bed that was usually occupied by Harry.  
  
“We don’t know!” Harry spat out; he was starting to look pale too. His eyes were huge and more pupil than anything else. “She just collapsed. We were talking and she just fell!”  
  
“ _Percunctor et estus_ ” The incantation was something I had heard a million times before. Any time something was wrong with one of us, Mum would use that spell to find out what it was.  
  
Pomfrey waved her wand over Hermione moving from toe to head and back. Her eyebrows drew together and her mouth pinched. The matron jerked her wand sharply at the curtains, which slid closed, shutting Harry and me out of Hermione’s immediate area.  
  
Harry took a step forward, but then stopped him self, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on behind that curtain. I watched him carefully stare blankly at the dividers, looking for all the world like a lost little boy. With a quick check to make sure no one was around to see, I wrapped one long arm around Harry’s thin shoulders and pulled him back to my chest.  
  
I stood straight and firm as he leaned into me and pressed my nose into his hair. It always smelled the same, minty and pleasant like the shampoo Dobby had taken to making for him back in second year.  
  
“She’ll be fine, right?” he whispered into my collarbone.  
  
“She’ll be right as rain in no time.” Harry’s fingers dug painfully into my waist, but I ignored it and rubbed his shoulder. “Pomfrey will fix her up just like she does you. And you’re good as new every time.”  
  
“I don’t want her to die…” My stomach worked itself into a horrid knot and I cringed inwardly. I already knew where that train of thought was headed. “Everyone… they die.”  
  
“No, Harry. Everyone you love doesn’t die.”  
  
“I didn’t say that.” I felt more than heard that mumble.  
  
“I know, I’m just putting that out there. You know, just in case other parties have that assumption.”  
  
“Git.” He snorted as he pulled away from me.  
  
“Oh, hush up, you.”  
  
It wasn’t even a full ten minutes before Madame Pomfrey emerged from the sectioned off area. “Ms. Granger is perfectly fine.” It was easy to see that she was more than a little annoyed and very grim which didn’t make her words all that believable. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter. Please return to your common room and send for your Head of House. Ms Granger will be staying the night.”  
  
“If she’s fine then why does she have to stay?”  
  
“Mr. Potter, there is something called patient confidentiality.”  
  
“Yeah, but,” Harry protested, trying to make his way around Madame Pomfrey, who matched him step for step. “It’s Hermione!”  
  
“Yes. It is Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter. That changes nothing about the circumstances,” she said with an air of finality. She placed a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulder and steered him, and apparently me too, towards the door. “I will alert you when Ms Granger awakens,” she said, with a remarkable amount of compassion for someone who was used to just issuing orders.  
  


(-)

  
  
As I’m sure you guessed by now, after Harry and I had told McGonagall we threw the invisibility cloak over our shoulders and hurried after her. It was no easy thing to rush after McGonagall quietly enough not to alert her. Her legs were long, and I would have been able to keep up but Harry was shorter and took longer to cover the same ground. But we managed. The most difficult thing was slipping in behind McGonagall just as the door closed and not bumping into her.  
  
As silently as possible we crept forward towards the curtains, crouching as low as we could to make sure that the cloak would cover us completely, and waited.  
  
Madame Pomfrey looked at McGonagall with a skeptical eye. “I find it hard to believe that those two didn’t follow you down.”  
  
“I didn’t see Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley at all after I left the tower.”  
  
“They’ll show up.” Pomfrey slid the white curtain to the side with her hand and sighed heavily. “They won't leave one of their own alone for long.”  
  
“Gryffindors are—”  
  
“No, Minerva. I wasn’t talking about your House. I was talking about those boys. When Ms. Granger had that potions mishap with the cat hair, they came and sat on the other side of the screen when she refused to see them. When the girl was practically turned to stone, they still came every day and sat beside her.”  
  
“Yes well, they’re a very tight-knit trio.”  
  
“Which is why I don’t want Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley to know what’s happened. There would be murder on school grounds, and the way I figure it, those two wouldn’t even care to hide the body.”  
  
I felt my breath catch in my chest and froze. Was Hermione not going to be okay? Was this the work of some junior Death Eater?  
  
“Well Poppy, what could possibly be so very wrong that it calls for all this drama and secrecy?”  
  
“The girl is pregnant, Minerva. She collapsed from a dizzy spell.”  
  
I wanted to laugh. Hermione pregnant! It seemed impossible! I mean, she was the one who was always so hyped up on being safe and responsible and everything else.  
  
“Ms. Granger? Are you sure, Poppy?” McGonagall’s eyes widened and strode closer to the curtain. “That is unlike her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew at least thirteen different contraception charms.”  
  
“I am very sure, Minerva.” Madame Pomfrey pulled back the curtains and my breath got caught in my throat. There was Hermione, lying on the hospital bed in one of those thin paper gowns. “What I don’t know is if she knows or not.”  
  
“Right then, _ennerverate_.”  
  
Harry and I scuttled closer but still gave the ladies wide berth. It wouldn’t do to be caught eavesdropping. We watched Hermione wake just like she always did, taking a deep breath before dragging her hands over her face and cracking her eyes open.  
  
“Professor?” She rubbed her face again and looked around. “Where are Harry and Ron?”  
  
I won’t lie, it felt really good to know that we were the first thing Hermione asked about.  
  
“They are in their dorm room Ms Granger.” It was a testament to our knowledge of each other that she looked around the room trying to see any hint of where we might be. A sunken chair cushion, a patch of depressed carpet, a small area where the dust motes didn’t fly, they were all giveaways that Mad Eye Moody had taught us to look for. I don’t think she saw us, but with Hermione you never really know.  
  
“What happened? I was watching the Quidditch try outs and then—”  
  
“You fainted Ms Granger.” Madame Pomfrey shoved a vial toward Hermione who downed it immediately. “Ms Granger… You are in a bit of a delicate situation. Did you know?”  
  
“Am I sick or something? I mean I thought I was a bit off, but I didn’t think it was anything very serious.”  
  
McGonagall sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Hermione’s thigh. “Child, you’re not sick.”  
  
“Then what’s wrong?” McGonagall and Pomfrey were making pitying faces that were making Hermione visibly nervous. She fidgeted, pulling at her fingers and nipping at her lip. “Where the guys? Why aren’t they here?” Harry had apparently thought that a cue because he brushed his fingers over the divider curtains to make them sway a bit.  
  
“I thought I would be best if they stayed in their dorm for this one. After all, it’s a very personal thing.” Madame Pomfrey took the empty vial from Hermione and sighed.  
  
“What is a personal thing? Do I have an infection? What is it?”  
  
“Dear girl, have you been getting these short dizzy spells for a while now?” Hermione nodded. “Nausea? Vomiting? Loss of appetite? Fatigue?”  
  
Thinking back I tried to remember if Hermione hadn’t looked well. But all I could remember was the last time I was throwing up and beat.  
  
“Yes, I just thought I wasn’t getting enough sleep. I’ve been revising all my old notes.” She flushed and looked down ashamed, “I slacked off this summer and haven’t really studied as much as I ought."  
  
McGonagall smiled sadly and I didn’t understand why —so what if there was a baby? It wasn’t like Hermione would have to drop out of school. There are three of us, and Mum would watch a kid during the day; she did it for more than half of our cousins.  
  
“Ms Granger, Hermione. You’re pregnant.”  
  
“No, I’m not,” Hermione blurted. “I can't b—” I felt guilt in the pit of my stomach as realization dawned on her. We hadn’t even bothered with contraception. We never intended to go that far. We hadn’t thought we were ready just yet.  
  
“Really dear, you are.” Madame Pomfrey said and produced a palm sized white ball and little orange vial. “This ball—” She pressed it into Hermione’s small hand, “—will glow green if you are pregnant and stay white if you are not. After that, if you want to know the gender, just shake it and it will turn blue for female and red for male.”  
  
I could feel Harry holding tightly onto my forearm as he leaned forward to see what color the ball was. He turned back toward me with a look of awe and I knew without another hint the ball was green.  
  
“Now, Ms Granger. I understand this is a lot to take in at once…” Madame Pomfrey had taken the visitor’s chair besides the hospital cot and leaned forward so she could face Hermione fully. “But you have some …tough, choices to make. And please remember that these choices are all yours to make, since you are legally an adult.  
  
"There are a few things we can do. If you want, we can contact your parents and ask them to help you sort this all out. We can inform the father, and get him to come and help you decide what you want to do about the pregnancy.”  
  
“Wait, what do you mean, to do about the pregnancy?”  
  
“Please know that no matter what you decide, this won't leave the room unless you want it to, and I certainly won't judge you, either.” Madame Pomfrey sat up, brushed invisible dirt off of her apron, pulled at the hem and then opened her hand to show Hermione the little orange vial. “This is a potion that would abort the pregnancy. It is _one_ option. The others are keeping and raising the child or giving the child up for adoption.”  
  
I don’t know who was more horrified at the idea of giving away or even killing the baby. Hermione looked sick, Harry was shaking like a leaf, and I could barely breathe.  
  
“No, thank you. I won't need the potion,” Hermione whispered, but it echoed through the infirmary, bringing with it relief. “Can I have a minute though? It’s a lot to process….”  
  
“Of course, dear. Give a shout if you need me.” Madame Pomfrey checked Hermione over once more before leading McGonagall into her office.  
  
As soon as the door shut, the cloak was off and we were at Hermione’s bedside. It was quiet for a minute. Hermione was fidgeting when Harry reached over and grabbed her hand. His fingers laced with hers and I put a hand on her shoulder. I had no idea what to say we all just looked at each other for a while.  
  
“Thank you…” Harry’s green eyes were glassy and his lips quivered. He might have seen me watching him because he bowed his head and took a deep shuddering breath. Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Hermione’s. “Thank you so much, Hermione.”  
  
I made my way to the other side of her bed so that I could rub her shoulders and pull the little ball from her clenched hands. Even as I tried to comfort her I kept one eye on the ball. It flared green when it sat in my palm. I put the ball on the side table before anyone else could see and hid my face in the wild mane of brown hair.  
  
I was fucked —no. Actually, I was pregnant.  
  


(-)

  
  
“Madame Pomfrey says I collapsed because my blood pressure dropped too quickly. It's been a bit on the low side.” Hermione visited the subject tentatively, as if she weren’t seated between Harry and me on my bed as we looked through magazines, books and medical journals about pregnancy. “I’m two months pregnant, I’ll be three months towards the end of October.”  
  
Harry nodded and pulled a book from behind him. He flipped through the pages and passed it towards Hermione when he got to whatever page it was. “Yeah, they said it might go up and down quickly while you’re in the first few months. It’s a pretty common thing.”  
  
I waved my wand over the article and copied it to a blank piece of parchment. We were keeping all tips or helpful articles in a folder. We would sort through them all later. Hermione accused me of being thoughtful; I blushed because I knew that I was being more than a little selfish. All of the research we did for Hermione would benefit me, too.  
  
“Harry, what do we do about it?” Again, this was my selfishness. Please don’t think I don’t care about the baby Hermione is carrying— I do, really— it's just that things were dangerous. This was a wartime generation, and I was attached to the figurehead of the of the resistance". I would never be able to bring myself to down a little orange vial. I understood why some did, but it wasn’t for me.  
  
“What are we going to do?” Hermione echoed, bewildered with horror etched in her face.  
  
“I thought we already decided to keep the baby.” Harry looked ready to haul off and punch me. I knew he'd always wanted a family, but I never really knew how much. The fury in his face made it very clear.  
  
“Not about that, our living arrangements.” The other two relaxed, and I wondered just for a minute if they really knew me as well as I had thought they did. “We can’t stay with my parents like this! They’ll have a fit, plus that house is much too small. Hermione’s parents aren’t magic, they can't put up wards and things, and the Dursleys are a no-go.”  
  
“The baby will be a target.” Hermione picked up on the point immediately. I expected nothing less from her. I knew I couldn’t say the words myself. I felt just awful for bringing it up once I saw the look of devastation on her face and the way her body seemed to suddenly curl around her stomach. “I’m Muggle born, Ron is a Pureblood whose family is publicly anti-Voldemort, and you too, Harry… We can’t risk this.”  
  
It was strange how, although we had known about the baby for almost a week, I was still detached. I knew Hermione would be a mum soon, and I knew I was going to give birth, too. These were all things I _knew_ but they seemed strange and foreign —almost unreal. Yet, here I was, still worrying about them.  
  
I nibbled at my lip and skimmed through the possibilities. Harry owned Grimmauld Place, but that wasn’t really secure, not when Kreacher could make a mess of things again. Not that I would want to live or raise a kid in such a depressing place; Sirius said that house had driven him mad as a kid, that it was worse than Azkaban in several ways.  
  
“We’ll buy a house of our own, somewhere Muggle, maybe even out of the country if we can manage it. We can ward it and everything else. That way we won't have to worry too much.”  
  
“We can use my trust fund. My parents left me more than enough gold... I’ve got inheritance from…” he let his sentence tape off. We all knew he wanted to say Sirius, but couldn’t bring himself to say the name.  
  
I gagged once or twice on my pride before swallowing it all down. I wouldn’t be able to afford a house straight out of school and having kids in flats seemed fundamentally wrong to me. The Burrow may not have been big, but it never mattered much to my family, we were out side playing and exploring most of the time.  
  
Hermione protested in the way I couldn’t afford to. “Harry, that’s for school, isn’t it? And even if it wasn’t, that’s your money! We can't just—”  
  
“I’ve got more than enough. And it's not like I’m wasting it all on something stupid -- it’s a house.” Harry smiled widely and my heart and stomach plummeted to my shoes, the very same way a Bludger drops out of the sky when the enchantments wear off mid-game. Harry never smiled.  
  
I mean sure, I had seen him grin, smirk and even on the rare occasion that there was something too funny to pass off with an amused quirk of his lips, he snickered. I had see Harry enraged, sad, lonely and even depressed; he was very open with his emotions, all of them except for happiness. I'd always thought Harry was afraid to be happy. He always smothered any signs of joy, like if someone knew he was happy, they would take it away. But here he was, smiling. It was a genuine smile that reached his eyes and made him radiate excitement and joy.  
  
“I finally get to have my own family. Let me be selfish and take care of thing for once, alright?”  
  
There wasn’t much Hermione and I could bring ourselves to say to that. In the end, we just nodded and agreed.  
  
“Great, so what are we looking for in a house? I want a big kitchen.”  
  
  
**Part 03**  
  
November rolled around faster than I thought it would.  
  
Harry was caught up in his lessons with Dumbledore, being frustratingly helpless when Hermione wasn’t feeling her best and chose to sharpen her claws on him, fending off Ginny’s advances and Slughorn’s attempts to entangle him in the “Slug Club.” He was, more often than not, dealing with the general crap that came with his name and position in the Wizarding World. and writing letters to Remus and the Goblins who were acting on his behalf when it came to the house business.  
  
Hermione was handling this beautifully, in my opinion. She all but floated and glowed when moved. She was bubbly and cheerful most of the time, but during the early afternoons she was would scream or snap at Harry. Luckily, I was spared her wrath because she liked the way I rubbed her shoulders, and held her hair back when she threw up. At night, she craved chocolate-covered pretzels or pickled pears, and was always cold. Her nighttime chills were so bad that she and Harry switched sleeping spots.  
  
Hermione started to spell her skirts looser and wear my uniform shirts, but mostly she wore oversized sweaters and my old robes around the castle. It was odd, but she looked cute practically swimming in my former clothes.  
  
For me, things were less pleasant. Food had become the enemy; I was always nauseous and couldn’t stomach anything more than fruits, salads and bread. Spotted Dick still looked and smelled as appetizing as mucous-covered flobber worm dung. My new eating habits got me strange looks from some of my housemates, and Harry picked up the habit too. He might have thought that I was trying to sympathize with Hermione.  
  
My nose wouldn’t stop running and I was always burning hot and sweating. My hair wouldn’t stop growing and thickening and after a while I gave up trimming it. I was perpetually tired, suffering from heartburn, and always had to pee.  
  
My stupid shite body was changing on top of that. I managed to get a bit of pudge around my middle, and my hips hurt and ached at night. I guess my body was making room for the baby in residence. I was glad that I had kept the habit of showering alone and at obscure times because the changes were happening further south as well; my balls and even the lips of my cunt were tinted purple (yet another _marvelous_ pregnancy side effect).  
  
And to make matters worse, I was fighting off tears at the drop of a hat, and had and got the insane urge to knit when no one was looking. It was embarrassing, so I shoved the yarn and pair of needles I stole from Hermione under my pillow every time I thought someone was looking my way.  
  


(-)

  
  
I was already a complete mess, but Quidditch practice made it worse. I was awful. I wasn’t awake enough to be alert and attentive, I fumbled every time the ball was thrown my way, and I was ready to throw in the towel by the end. Then I got to see Dean and my sister sucking face behind the bleachers.  
  
I could have been more rational about things, yes I know. But have a little courtesy! Tell a guy before you go about snogging his sister behind the pitch! The worst I would have done was punch him once, and even then probably in the arm at that! I actually liked Dean, as opposed to that irritating Corner kid. But I was hurt and irrational, so I was a bit rash.  
  
We shouted at each other a bit, and true to form, Ginny snapped something ugly and personal, then stormed off. I patted myself on the back for having the foresight not to remind her about the family secret when we were younger. That would have definitely been thrown in my face.  
  
I left Harry standing stupidly with Dean and stormed off to the locker room.  
  
It took me until after I'd showered and was on my way to the Gryffindor dorms to realize that I was knackered. Trudging up the tower stairs was excruciating, and climbing to the boys' dorm room was even worse. I flopped down onto my bed, drew the curtains, and pulled out my yarn balls, needles and the mostly-done baby blanket from the nightstand. Everything but the rhythm of needles and a stupid rhyme seemed to melt into the background.  
  
_“Under the fence, catch the sheep. Back we come, off we leap.”_ The whole thing, from yarn to rhyme, reminded me of my mother. For the first time since I was eleven, I was homesick and letting the tears stream freely down my face. It was humiliating, and I was so glad to be alone that I didn’t even hear the door open.  
  
“Ron,” Hermione opened the curtains of the bed, and I shoved the ball of yarn under the pillow. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “It's alright, Ron. I know you knit.”  
  
“Belt up and get in here.”  
  
Hermione grinned and slipped in behind the curtain and climbed over my legs to get to her place beside me. She just lay there watching me work the yarn over the needles quickly. I was grateful for the curtains, they gave everything a reddish glow so she couldn’t see the blush on my face.  
  
“You’re really good at that. Much better than me, everything I make looks horrid. I haven’t even tried to make anything for the baby.”  
  
“Mum taught me when I was little and made me help her do the Christmas jumpers when my brothers were at school.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah, but don’t worry too much. Ginny’s got no talent for it, can’t cook a whit either, now that I think of it.” I nudge Hermione’s side a bit, trying to get a smile from her.  
  
“How much stuff have you made so far?” she asked me as she ran her hands over the mostly completed blanket; this one I would keep for my baby.  
  
“A few dozen layette sets, six blankets and a thick amount of booties.” I muttered. Knitting at the speed of light isn’t exactly something that I’m proud of. “I’m bored but I don’t want to do anything that includes getting out of bed or revising, so this is it.”  
  
“I know something we can do!” Hermione said cheerfully, her fingers pushed away the yarn and needles and rested on my chest I turned my head to the side and caught her Cheshire cat grin. “We don’t even have to leave the comfort of bed!”  
  
When Hermione crawled on top of me, I realized that _this_ , this was the one side effect of pregnancy that I loved. Hermione had a serious case of nymphomania. Between classes, after classes, during lunch… It was insane and intense because I was matching her, orgasm for orgasm. At night after we turned in, the two of us would start making out and messing around; Harry was relegated to watching. Something about him made Hermione angry and I wasn’t about to lose my daytime shag partner because I let Harry have his way. However, I made up for the times I snubbed Harry during the times that I had free periods with him and Hermione was off in Arithmancy or Astronomy.  
  


(-)

  
  
By December 1st I had figured out that bananas stopped the vomiting, going at saltines like a beaver at wood would hold off the worst of the nausea, that if I ate ice cubes and drank cranberry juice, I wouldn’t be running for the bathroom during every class or sweating like Goyle, and somehow had made it to number one on Hermione’s shit-list.  
  
I gave up on trying to follow what was going on with everyone to hole up in the library, learning concealment spells. My stomach was getting large and more obvious by the day, and ‘notice-me-not’ spells weren’t going to hide this forever. Hermione was always suspicious of seeing me in the library. She’d glare at me and refuse to say a word, and I just didn’t get it.  
  
We were sitting across from each other, looking up charms, when suddenly she sprung up from her seat, grabbed my arm and pressed it to the hidden lump of her stomach. I was going to ask her what the hell she was doing when I felt it.  
  
It was barely more than a flutter but I still felt it.  
  
A little thump against my palm was all that I needed to yank Hermione down into my lap and kiss her as best as I could. For the first time since we landed in this situation I had proof. Tangible proof that I wasn’t alone; proof that Hermione was pregnant just like I was, proof that we would all be a family just as soon as I worked up the nerve to tell the truth.  
  


(-)

  
  
“You’re not going to come to the Burrow with us?” Harry asked as we settled down on the sofa towards the back of the common room. I looked at Hermione over the handkerchief I was using; it would be odd, after all this time, to not have her icy toes pressed against my thighs.  
  
“No —get down, Crookshanks!” The stupid cat yowled when Hermione shoved him off of her lap again. “This is probably the last Christmas that I’ll spend with just my parents.”  
  
I nodded, understanding, and Harry backed off with minimal pouting.  
  
“So, I meant to ask you guys. Is it alright if I tell them?” She gestured vaguely to her stomach and I blanched.  
  
I hadn’t even told my mother about any of this yet, and telling Dad was not an option. Usually Dad was the one that we could turn to for an understanding and sympathetic ear. He was the go-to if you were afraid to confess to Mum or just couldn’t bear the embarrassment of a situation. But when it came to things like this, where exposure was possible, he was a tyrant.  
  
I remembered when I was six and Charlie had been sent home from school, suspended for indecent behavior behind the greenhouses with some girl a year above him. Ginny and I were in the next room and could hear the shouting.  
  
Nothing had happened; they hadn’t gone very far, but that there was a possibility that she could have seen— would have told —had sent Dad into a frenzy. I don’t honestly know what happened, but I know that when Dad had stormed out of the house, Charlie was in tears. He was wailing and inconsolable. Mum held him and tried to soothe him, but still he cried until he had exhausted himself.  
  
Charlie hadn’t been himself for a few days afterward. He steered clear of Dad and seemed to be on pins and needles like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He barely ate, and had carried me into his room when I was asleep more than once. Every day of the week that Charlie had been suspended I woke up in his bed. Whatever Dad had said, shown or had done to Charlie was so terrifying that he was afraid to sleep alone.  
  
And I, for one, didn't want to know what it was.  
  
I sighed and tipped my head back against the sofa cushions. "Hermione, tell them if you want to. It's not like they have to know all of the gritty details." My fingers itched for those stupid knitting needles just to get rid of the nervous energy that cropped up out of nowhere.  
  
“Will they make you…” Harry licked his lips nervously and threaded his fingers between Hermione’s, gripping hard and desperately. “Will they make you go to a clinic?”  
  
“Honestly, I don’t see what the problem with that is. Don’t Muggles have those machines that let you actually see the baby? I think that would be pretty cool.”  
  
“Not that kind of clinic, Ron.” Hermione looked at my twitching fingers and waved her wand about a bit. “No Harry, they won't make me. If I don’t want to, they’ll respect that. But if you want me to, Harry, I’ll tell them I’m six months in.”  
  
My hand drifted towards my own stomach at the thought of killing the little thing that fluttered and squirmed inside of me but I caught myself just in time and stilled my hand. Just then I saw my knitting drift down the stairs and into my lap. I gave Hermione a token glare for exposing my shameful secret, but took up the needles anyway; my hands were itching something awful.  
  
“You knit?” Harry ran his fingers over the finished portion of the baby sack. This one was for me to keep; I loved the mix of gray and teal.  
  
“Yeah. You’ve met my mum, right?”  
  
“Well yeah, but I didn’t know she'd taught you how to knit. Aunt Petunia showed me how to crochet when I was little.” He got that look on his face that I knew meant he was thinking of something that he would never tell us. “I don’t have the patience for it, anymore.” I just nodded and continued with the hood of the sack.  
  
We sat there tangled with each other on the sofa until the clock in the corner read one-thirty. I shoved the knitting into my bag and shuffled through the contents to make sure I had my Potions text. Slughorn liked Harry and Hermione, he even liked Ginny enough to overlook them not being prepared, but I wasn’t a beneficiary of his nepotism.  
  
Hermione pulled her legs from under my thighs and stood up to stretch. “I’ve got to go to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey is calling in that Pediatrics Healer to meet with me.”  
  
“During a class? Potions, nonetheless?”  
  
“This is the only time the woman can make it, so I need to go. I’m grateful that she’s even meeting with me at all.” Hermione shrugged. “Besides, it's not like Slughorn will care, or deviate from the text any. Snape may have been an unfair berk, but he was a better Potions teacher.”  
  
Harry sighed, put away the sheaf of papers he was reading, and got up too. “I’ll walk you; I’ve got to send an owl off to Remus anyway. We’ll have a house of our own when everything goes through.”  
  
I felt the little flutter of the baby in me and bit down sharply on my lip. I wanted to tell them, but it was a bad time. We couldn’t really talk about it now. Harry and I had class and Hermione was going to the hospital wing. Not that I really wanted to talk about it, but pregnancies are one of those things that require talking …I guess.  
  
Ugh, this was so annoying!  
  
I mean yeah, they knew I wasn’t completely male. Hermione had fingered and licked me just moments before Harry had been _inside_ of me. They handled it well and never brought it up unless we were fucking. That had to be torture for Hermione. She had given me questioning looks for weeks after she knew, and barely held back a million questions, starting with _‘why didn’t you tell us?’_.  
  
I shouldered my bag, promising myself to work up the nerve and tell them before the day was over, and held open the door of the portrait hole for Hermione, who climbed through it awkwardly. We parted at the grand staircase, and I headed toward the Hogwarts kitchens. If I wanted to get through the next two hours of stirring and mixing and chopping repulsive things, I was going to need a peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich with a massive cup of hot of milk.  
  
The house-elves had fawned over me like they never had before, and I looked down hesitantly. Elf magic was different. It was more basic and truthful than the magic of wizards, they could probably see through my glamour without even trying to. Either that, or I was getting to be as paranoid Mad-Eye Moody. I took my sandwich and bolted it down on the way to class.  
  
I managed to walk in a minute or so before Harry did, so Slughorn wasn’t going to take points from me or else he’d have to deduct from Harry as well. Everything was normal for the most part; we read over the recipe, the distillation formulas and then finally were released to gather our supplies from the cupboards. Harry was fending off Slughorn’s attempt to get him to come to the Christmas party he was throwing, so I tromped off to get our supplies.  
  
Most of the rush was over by the time I made it to the closet; Parkinson was trying to jump up and reach the last jar of hellebore powder on the high shelf. Figuring myself taller and a bit of an arse, I reached up over her to grab the jar. I had it in my hand when Parkinson, in all her spiteful pug-faced glory, smacked it out of my hand.  
  
When the jar hit the ground, it shattered, and thick plumes of white dust covered everything. I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in and started coughing. Once I started, I just couldn’t stop. My chest heaved and I crouched and hacked so hard that my eyes filled with water and my head spun. My throat felt tight and I couldn’t stop gagging. It could have been a Portkey, for all I knew. My head was pounding and there were white blots in my vision. I coughed once more, and bile coated my mouth before I fell forward.  
  


(-)

  
  
There are very few places that are as distinctive as the Hogwarts infirmary. I didn’t even open my eyes, but I already knew where I was. The smell of disinfectant burned my nose, and the sheets felt all wrong. They weren’t the same worn, comfortable sheets that were on the dorm beds. I could even hear Madame Pomfrey arguing with someone about leaving the infirmary.  
  
I cracked my eyes open just enough to glance around the room, wary of the excess of sunlight that I knew was behind me. I was actually surprised, for some strange reason, when I saw Harry in the chair next to my bed, arms crossed and a deep frown on his face.  
  
“Er. Hey?” It hurt to speak and my voice sounded awful and coarse.  
  
There was no hello or how are you, just an angry snort and a terse, “When were you going to tell me?”  
  
I glanced down at my abdomen and grimaced. Pomfrey had removed the glamour I was using to stay hidden. Harry had already seen everything; it made no sense to try and hide it any longer. I looked around, making sure the curtains were all pulled closed, and turned my face into the pillows with a groan.  
  
“Well?”  
  
I hated this conversation. Right away, I hated it.  
  
“Look, I wasn’t even sure for a while…”  
  
“When were you sure?”  
  
“Does it matter?” I still didn’t pull my head away from the pillows. My face was burning red and I could barely stand to talk to Harry, let alone look at him. “I was going to tell you tonight either way.”  
  
“Pomfrey says you're five months on, same as Hermione. Makes sense though, that was the only time I…” Harry touched my bump and I felt the baby press out against the heat of his palm. “Oh, wow.” He felt it too.  
  
I stayed perfectly still while my sprog decided to drum on my insides for its father’s pleasure. Fuck that was weird, thinking of Harry as a father. Hell, I was going to be a father too, twice if Hermione’s kid was mine in the technical sense.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ron?”  
  
I wish he would have been angry, sounded at least a little upset instead of hurt. Upset I could handle, we’d shout at each other and everything would be better in an hour. Hurt made me feel just awful, like a huge walking dragon turd.  
  
“You trusted me with your secret. Why not with this too?”  
  
I couldn’t just not answer.  
  
I rolled over so that I was on my side, sleeping on my back was uncomfortable no matter how many pillows were stacked under me. Looking at Harry, I would have never guessed that this was the same kid who had come back from summer hols. His eyes were sharp and focused on me, his whole body tense —on guard. Something about his bearing had changed, and I knew that it was a certain kind of maturity he’d grown into.  
  
“I trust you, Harry. Honestly I do.” I took a deep breath to try and force out the words. “Please understand, I’m a man! Or at least I’ve always thought of myself that way! But you have to understand, it’s scary and humiliating.”  
  
It felt not exactly good—but lighter, if you will— to get it all out, to stop hiding from my best friend. He was more than that if I was honest. He was my lover. It felt good to be honest with my lover— with my lovers, when Hermione came back from the kitchens.  
  
I heard my father’s voice in the back of my head, urging me to keep my mouth shut, but once the words started they wouldn’t stop.  
  
“It was strange enough to find out I wasn’t the same as everyone else. To find out I wasn’t really a boy. I had finally come to terms with it and then I started bleeding! I thought I was going to die! I never got used to it— I don’t want to get used to it! I just do the spells, wear the stuff, and don’t think about it until it’s all over.  
  
"I didn’t know what the hell was going on the first time. Turns out it’s like a natural thing with girls. Harry, I don’t want to be a girl! I don’t even want to be a little like them at all!  
  
"I can’t goof off in the lake with the rest of the guys, I have to time my showers so that everyone is asleep or gone, I was terrified to have actual sex with you and Hermione for months! Being pregnant… That’s a whole new broom game. I didn’t want to acknowledge it before but I— I— I’m a _freak_ , Harry! An honest to goodness _freak of nature_.”  
  
Of all the things I was expecting, Harry wrapping his arms around me was the last thing I expected. That’s what he did, though. He grabbed me and held on for dear life. The baby went wild, kicking and punching because it could feel the heat of another body. “Don’t say that, Ron. Never say that.”  
  
“Why the hell not? It's true!” I tried to throw Harry off of me by wriggling and squirming, but he still managed to hang on. “My whole family! From Dad right down to me! We’re all freaks. Not male— not female either. Fucking Hermaphrodites, the lot of us.”  
  
“I don’t care. If you had three arms and Fang’s face, I’d still love you just the same.”  
  
“I would, too.”  
  
I started, not expecting to hear Hermione’s voice come from my other side, her stomach rounded and stretching out one of my old shirts.  
  
I pulled my hands up and covered my face as best as I could. There was no way Hermione was going to see me cry. I wasn't a man, but I had my pride.  
  
  
**Part 04**  
  
“You didn’t go Flooing Hermione’s parents!”  
  
“Ms. Granger is a legal _adult_.” She was stressing the adult part and trying to tug her wrist from my hand, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let her get to the fireplace and to my parents. It would be suicide if Dad thought someone else knew.  
  
“Look, Can’t you give me a few days? That’s all I am asking, give me a few days and I’ll tell Mum myself.” I was begging now, and yes it was pathetic, but it was what needed to be done. “Please. I just need a little more time. I’ll tell them myself.”  
  
Madame Pomfrey blew her dark brown hair out of her face and tried to wrench her arm free again. “Ms. Weasley, will you please let go of my arms.”  
  
I did let go then. I knew my facial expression must have been caught somewhere between hurt, fury and embarrassment. “I’m not a bloody girl, you stupid cow!”  
  
Not the best negotiation practice —yes, I do know that – but I couldn’t even give a damn. I just shoved the blankets off and struggled to bend over and lace up my shoes. I was half out of breath before I could tie off the second shoe and stormed out of the infirmary.  
  
I didn’t really know where I was going but I didn’t particularly care, either. I just started walking and didn’t stop until I was somewhere on the seventh floor. I was tired already and hungry for a snack, maybe something with grapes?  
  
It only took me a second to realize I was in front of the Room of Requirement. I opened the door and found a large hearth with a rolling fire built up, a low plush chaise lounge and a bowl of mixed fruit. I walked in and threw myself down on the chaise.  
  
I was just so damn sick of this pregnancy business. I felt like I was going through another growth spurt; always hungry with sore joints and a skewed sense of balance, with the added effect of having to piss every hour on the hour because this brat thought my bladder was a hacky-sack. I shoved a few grapes in my mouth and looked into the fire. I wanted to Floo someone, anyone…I thought of calling Fred or George, but I didn’t want to take the chance that Mum or Dad would overhear. Bill was staying with Mum and Dad too, so that was out. Percy was being a dick, and would probably rat me out to Dad, so I didn’t really want to talk to him. Charlie was…  
  
Charlie was safely in Romania and knew that Dad couldn’t be told about this. Charlie was safe to tell, but he was the type to ask questions. I didn’t really want to explain this situation to anyone but at this rate I would need someone in my corner for when the shit storm hit.  
  
I must have stood there for ten minutes just threading my fingers through the pot of Floo Powder that had appeared by the fruit bowl. I was procrastinating, trying to think of what exactly to say and what I’d get as a reaction. But in the end I had nothing and tossed a large handful past the andirons and into the flames.  
  
“The Basarab Romanian Dragon Reserve! West Building seven, Charlie Weasley.”  
  
I knew this would take a while, so I stripped out of my robes and school tie. I manage to also kick off my slippers and settle on the floor in front of the fire. By the time I had summoned the fruit to my side Charlie had appeared in the fireplace.  
  
“Ron?” he leaned forward and squinted, as if the connection on his end was blurry. “Hold on, let me add some more wood.”  
  
“Hey Charlie.” When I saw my brother’s face again I tried to smile, but I don’t think it worked out all that well for me.  
  
“Hey, yourself. What’s going on?” Charlie looked me up and down and I fought hard not to fidget. “You look awful, Ron.”  
  
“I feel awful!”  
  
“Why? You and Harry fighting again?” he asked.  
  
I loved Charlie. I love all my brothers —even Percy -- but none of them were as easy to talk to as Charlie. He’s a good listener, really open–minded, and even better at giving advice.  
  
“No, not that. We’ve been alright. A little more than alright, actually.” God I hated being ginger, red hair made blushing way too obvious.  
  
“Ah, really now.” His deep throaty chuckle echoed through the room. I wasn’t even offended, Charlie was just naturally happy. He had never been the type to laugh at your worries. “That, I have to admit, I didn’t see coming. But it’s no big deal, yeah? It's not an uncommon thing.”  
  
“That doesn’t bother me, no, but that’s not the point.”  
  
“This is a social call then? Not to say I’m not happy to hear from you and everything but international fire calling is expensive.”  
  
“I’m pregnant, Charlie.” I couldn’t have been more tactless if I tried, but I didn’t really care. I just needed to say it. I was afraid to look up into the Floo, so I focused on rolling the little black grape between my fingers. The crackling of the fire was all I heard for the next two minutes.  
  
“Ah.” I still didn’t look up. “What are you doing, Ron? Are you keeping it or …”  
  
“I can’t just kill it… It moves.”  
  
“I see. Have you told Dad?” Charlie’s gruff voice softened as he brought up our parents. He had to have some kind of clue to the reaction that Dad would have.  
  
“No. Pomfrey’s going to tell them.”  
  
“Shit, Ron,” he breathed, and I felt just about two inches tall.  
  
“I was keeping it a secret, but a jar of hellebore powder broke and I inhaled enough to make me pass out. She did a scan, and thinks I’m a girl.” Charlie shrugged and I dragged a hand across my face. “Her scans don’t ever show gender, just where the injury or whatever is. I tried to talk her into letting me tell Mum and Dad but she wouldn’t.”  
  
“Either way, it’ll be alright.” Charlie’s optimism was nice, even if a tad unrealistic. “Harry’s the…er…?”  
  
“Yeah… yeah he is.”  
  
“That’s…” He let his answer hang in the air and I knew what he meant. Having Harry as a father was going to be this kid’s saving grace or his death sentence. I tried not to think too much about that and steered the conversation away from the topic of my personal life altogether. I listened to Charlie talk about Norbert and some of his other Dragons for almost twenty minutes before we cut the connection.  
  
I took my time to go back down to the infirmary. I wasn’t looking forward to Madame Pomfrey’s questioning looks and constant calls of ‘Ms. Weasley’. Though I can't really blame her all that much on this front; people like me are so rare that it made more sense that I would be a female in disguise.  
  
I crossed the threshold of the ward, setting off the chimes. Immediately Madame Pomfrey hurried over waving her wand about like a madwoman and maneuvering me across the hall. She scolded me, but I barely listened as I climbed into bed. There were other things to worry about.  
  
I flopped back against the pillows and listen to Pomfrey fuss at the person on the other side of the curtain. And closed my eyes hoping to get some sleep.  
  


(-)

  
  
I was released from the Infirmary the next morning.  
  
Harry and Hermione were waiting at the side of my bed, chatting about what kind of refrigerator they wanted for the kitchen of the house while I flicked my wand at the laces of my shoes. Bending wasn’t something I did anymore.  
  
Hermione was wearing my robes, the glamour not yet covering her belly, which was (surprisingly) larger than my own. Hermione’s hands were propped on the small of her back and I laid a hand against her stomach. The baby squirmed and kicked my hand twice.  
  
I jolted when I felt Hermione’s small hand rest against the bulge of my stomach. It was an odd sensation. I wasn't used to having my stomach touched after all this time. My baby moved away from the warmth of Hermione’s hand and curled in an uncomfortable knot close to my spine.  
  


  


[](http://pics.livejournal.com/ronbigbang_mod/pic/00009dfs/g24)  
---  
Expectation,    art by[](https://venturous1.dreamwidth.org/profile)[ **venturous1**](https://venturous1.dreamwidth.org/)  
  
  
  
“Did Pomfrey tell you what it will be?”  
  
“No. Hell, I wasn’t even awake to know how she found out I was pregnant.”  
  
“It was the hellebore.” Harry chimed as he reached over to get my bag. I shoved his hand away, I’d be damned if he started treating me like some helpless girl.  
  
“I thought that stuff was poisonous anyway-”  
  
“Yeah but it only starts closing your throat up if you’re a pregnant wo— if you’re pregnant.” He’s damn lucky he caught himself.  
  
“You shouldn’t have been brewing that, anyway.” Hermione’s wand did a few complicated motions and then I felt the cool tingle that meant the glamour had been put into place. “Inhaling the fumes from certain potions is harmful to the fetus.”  
  
Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that. Guilt twanged in my chest, but I pushed it down and grabbed my bag. “Well the baby’s alright, and I know for next time. Let’s go, I’m starved.”  
  
Hermione led the way out of the infirmary; Harry and I fell into position, flanking her on either side. Harry seemed to be doubly on alert; his wand was in his hand and his eyes flickered across the corridor, and checking our rear view on the gleaming suits of armor we passed.  
  
Hermione slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow and squeezed. She could barely keep the smile off of her face. She was radiant. “I’m excited about this. It’s lonely being an only child,” she chimed quietly.  
  
I nodded, taking in that information. “Only a few kids, though. Things are… complicated if there are too many.”  
  
“Have you been thinking of names?”  
  
“Not really. I don’t even know the gender.” I watched Harry lace his fingers between Hermione’s from the corner of my eyes and I couldn’t help but smile. Regardless of what ever else was happening, we were going to pull through like we always did, and we’d be together.  
  
“A boy!” she chirruped.  
  
Harry stumbled and his head turned sharply to look at the pair of us. His eyes were huge, his lips were barely parted and his cheeks were a mottled red.  
  
I chuckled at his astonishment; Hermione’s kid could only be one of two genders, after all… I hoped.  
  
“I’ve been thinking of names…” Hermione withdrew her hand from my arm and dug deep into her satchel, pulling out a small leather-bound book. “I’m making a list of them so we can choose the right name later.”  
  
“How many names have you come up with so far?” Harry asked, plucking the book from her and flipping through it briefly before handing it back as we came to the grand foyer. We kept close to the walls and away from the crowd that was milling into the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
We sat down at the Gryffindor table just as the food appeared on the large platters. I ignored all of the platters filled with egg, sausage and pancakes in favor of a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and the crispiest pieces of bacon I could find. I turned my nose up at pumpkin juice (it was just unappetizing somehow), and drank cup after cup of hot milk.  
  
Hermione, on the other hand, was bolting down anything fried as if she’d never eat again, mopping up the yolk of her boiled egg with toast and hitting the warmed cider hard. It was ironic how our eating habits had been reversed. I used to love a good fry up, but now anything even remotely oily made my stomach turn.  
  
There were a lot of side-glances at Hermione and me that morning and constant whispers going around. I didn’t pay much attention to it. Because we were friends with Harry, people always seemed to think we were a sideshow or something. There were always the looks, but it wasn’t usually as intense at this.  
  
There had to be a new rumor going around. Rumors didn’t bother me; hell, I thought most of them were pretty funny. It’s Harry who hates them. He hates that people think badly of him or think that he is anything but normal. Personally, I half-expected for Harry to be used to it by now. For the last year, whenever there was another report of Death Eater attacks, they have all turned to stare at him.  
  
“Shay.”  
  
Seamus looked up at me his fork half way to his mouth. “Yeah?”  
  
“What’s the gossip? It feels like people are trying to burn a hole in my back.”  
  
Shay chuckled and leaned forward. “Some shite about you secretly being a woman. I told them all to feck off.” I swear, the oatmeal in my stomach iced over and was going to make a comeback. “I saw the girls' staircase turn to slides right under you! I mean you may be a tad body-shy, but everyone is entitled to their oddities.”  
  
I forced a laugh that to my ears sounded more like a gurgle and tried not to look at Hermione, who was discreetly watching me from the corner of her eye.  
  
Harry tossed half of his muffin on to his plate, grabbed his bag and stood up. I had never seen him leave food behind; it was just something that he didn’t do, like sleeping out in the open or asking for help when he needed it. “I’ve got to go back to the dorm. I forgot my Potions text.”  
  
I took it as the out it was intended to be and pushed back my plate. “I’ll go with.”  
  
Hermione wrapped five muffins in a few napkins and shoved them in her bag before walking out with us. Class wasn’t going to start for another twenty minutes, so we sat on the first few steps of the giant staircase after leaving the Great Hall.  
  
"Are you alright, Ron? You're looking pale." Hermione pressed the back of her hand against my clammy skin and I tried my best not to slap her hand away.  
  
"Yeah, I'm alright. Just a bit tired, I guess."  
  
Hermione pressed her lips together in a fine line, and I knew she wasn't buying it. "Well then, we'll have to get you back to Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"What- no, I'm just fine."  
  
Hermione stood up with a grunt and held out a hand to me, "Come on. Fatigue isn't good for the baby. So we go back to Pomfrey."  
  
"Okay, okay. I give." I held up my ands and let loose a tired sigh "Look, I'm just a bit weirded out by people saying I'm a girl. I'm not."  
  
"You honestly think anyone will believe that tripe? As far as everyone knows, the Weasleys have six sons."  
  
The problem with Muggleborns is that they don't really get Wizarding culture. Not that it's a great shortcoming; it's just that I'm not too used to having to explain things that are a given – well a given to me, anyway. I turned to look at Harry, who was watching us intently and was, for all intents and purposes, a Muggleborn. I closed my eyes for a moment, giving in to the fact that I was the only one in this relationship who knew about these things.  
  
"Often there are issues when purebloods have children. The Blacks hold down the market on psychos. Malfoys breed frail children. Potters tend to shoot blanks more often than not- you had to be different, didn't you?" I eyed Harry who just shrugged with a sheepish grin, cute little bastard. "Notts are prone to messy suicides – there's a whole field of problems with us, we're all crazy-inbred and it shows.  
  
"Weasleys, we're lucky because our mutation isn't... Well, we can fake it. If someone really thinks about it and puts the pieces together, I'll be in deep shit."  
  
"I don't understand, what's so bad about being... you know?"  
  
"Well aside from being a freak of nature there are... things. Certain beliefs that are, in this case, usually true. Magically stronger children, the ability to both give and provide children, the prestige of having a trophy spouse because of how rare it is for a child to be born like that. When they are, they're usually married off for massive amounts of money or political power, then are forced to have child after child until they can't or they die.  
  
"They were rare before, but after Grindlewald rounded most up to birth the soldiers for his army and died imprisoned, there aren't really any left."  
  
Hermione frowned and pursed her lips. She was angry and I could see her trying to figure out what sections of the library to haunt tonight. "Aren't there laws?"  
  
"Of course." I felt my lips stretch into a cold semblance of a smile as I rattled off the section of the ministry decree my father made me memorize before allowing me to leave for Hogwarts. "Ministry Decree 6721-03A. All Hermaphrodites are to be wed upon reaching majority. If the aforementioned person is not wed (or due to be wed within six months of their date of birth), that person shall become a ward of the Ministry of Magic."  
  
"Oh Ron." Surprisingly enough, it was Harry who spoke up. He leaned against my side, his fingers rubbing the back of my hand, his head resting on the side of my arm as he watched me with those brilliant green eyes. "Don't worry. We can make it so that everyone thinks Hermione had twins."  
  
"That's true," I conceded, "It's not like anyone but you two know, anyway."  
  
The moment I closed my mouth the doors to the Great Hall burst open. A crowd that were surrounding two older students who were flinging curses, hexes and rapid fire spells at one another spilled into the corridor.  
  
Hermione started up the steps away from the crowd and the dueling pair. Harry stood up and offered his arm, which I grabbed and used to lever myself off of the stone step. Just when I made it to my feet, a stray bat-bogey hex caught me in the face.  
  
It's a gross, slimy, painful and horribly frightening hex. Mucus leaked from my pores at an alarming rate, flaps of skin lifted off of my face and flapped wildly, blocking my vision and just being disgusting and disorienting. I froze on the spot, not wanting to chance mis-stepping and falling. Just because I didn't look like I was pregnant didn't mean I wasn't. The glamour changed my appearance and protected me from strange looks, not unfortunate falls.  
  
"Ron, why aren't you moving?" Harry called from six steps above the one I was standing on.  
  
"Bat-bogey hex. I can't see to move and I don't want to fall."  
  
"What are you-?"  
  
"The glamour is hiding the hex!"  
  
I felt Harry's small-calloused hand wrap around my own. I followed his movements and let him tow me safely up the stairs. We walked briskly through the halls to wherever Hermione was. I heard her whisper the counter spell for my glamour before she got rid of the animated, mucus-covered skin flaps. In about two breaths, my skin was back to its natural state.  
  
"Thanks, ‘Mione."  
  
"You're ...welcome," she panted.  
  
I turned my full attention to Hermione, looking her over. The glamour was gone and I could see her poking belly tenting my old robes. Hermione's cheeks were ruddy and flushed, and her eyes were glassy.  
  
Harry was hovering by her right shoulder, ready to catch her if there was even a hint of anything going wrong.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, I just... I get tired after I do magic. I don't have as much energy, and stairs are hell on the ankles." She flashed me a commiserating grin.  
  
Just as I opened my mouth to reply I felt this odd prickling on my skin. As if some one was watching me. I glanced around and didn't see anyone. The door behind Hermione had been closed and the corridor appeared to be empty.  
  
"You guys ready?" Harry tapped his wand lightly on his pants leg. Colorful sparks shook loose with each movement. Again, it was something unusual that came so naturally to Harry that he didn't even think of it.  
  
As he chanted the incantation with prepping from Hermione, I couldn't help but to think of our child. Hermaphrodites never gave birth to Squibs, only magically strong children. But if that kid inherited just half of Harry's power!  
  
My fingers curled over my stomach as I felt the baby stretch and move in reaction to that much magic around us. Apparently it was sensitive to magic, which according to my mother was a sign of great magical ability – or red hair.  
  
Our glamors were fixed into place again. This time, since Harry was the source of the spell, it would last long and feed off of his magic instead.  
  
"Let's get this over with," I grumbled and hefted my bag onto my shoulder.  
  
Hermione curled a few fingers in her hair and looked somewhere over my shoulder. "Um- you know...I'm going to go back to the dorm... Could use a nap."  
  
I don't know who was more surprised, Harry or myself. I got over it pretty fast and headed for the tower.  
  
As per usual, we took up residence in my bed. Hermione was sleeping on her side with most of the pillows supporting her belly and helping her spine stay lined up. She was dead to the world and letting out those uptight little snores of hers. I leaned against the footboard, flipping through the catalogues Harry and Hermione had collected and trying not to moan loudly as Harry worked the soreness out of my swollen ankles.  
  
I didn’t care what they did with the house so long as I could decorate one of the nurseries. Argyle would look great on the walls, and I could do them in the Quidditch league team colors.  
  
This kid would be born with a broom in its hand. James Potter had been an up-and-coming athlete before he signed up for the Auror Corps. Everyone said Harry flew twice as well, and I swear Harry’s every team’s wet dream on the field. Not to mention us Weasleys love Quidditch, and we aren’t half bad at it either. Hell, even Percy is good at Quidditch, and the lousy sod is terrified of heights!  
  
I drifted off to the price estimates of Puddlemere United and Chudley Cannon decals and one hell of a foot rub.  


(-)

  
  
We all woke up from our nap about twenty minutes before lunch. So many students had been hexed, jinxed or injured during this morning’s impromptu duel that our absence hadn’t even been noted. Harry and I flanked Hermione as we ambled slowly towards the Great Hall, relaxed and well-rested.  
  
“I still say yellow is a lovely color for a kitchen.” Hermione insisted as we passed Hufflepuff dorm’s entrance.  
  
“I still say I’m not cooking in a yellow kitchen,” Harry answered immediately. “There are other colors! What about blue, green or even white?”  
  
This wasn’t the first time they had had this argument. They’d tried to rope me into it but I refused. If I sided with Hermione, Harry would be upset, if I sided with Harry, Hermione would write me off or start bitching about how we always banded together to over-rule her. They each had their own reasons. Hermione wanted yellow because her mother’s kitchen was yellow, and it would be like having a bit of home in a completely new place, while Harry wanted nothing that reminded him of the Dursley’s lemon-yellow kitchen. Personally, I don’t care what color anything is, so long as it all works.  
  
When the argument reached the ten-minute mark, I understood how annoyed Harry got with Hermione and me. I was ready to tell them both to shut up and flip a coin, but the fact was that if this were Hermione and I arguing, we would have been shouting and gritting our teeth at each other.  
  
Their argument tapered off as they looked down the corridor, bafflement written all over their faces. I turned to see what was so mystifying to them when I saw my father storming towards us.  
  
I could see from here that his shoulders were stiff and his face was that mottled red I’ve only seen about three times in my life. He was beyond mad, so far past enraged and furious that I didn’t even have a word for it. My stomach dropped into my shoes and I felt the baby curl tightly somewhere towards the top of my womb in a distinctly uncomfortable spot.  
  
I sped up to a brisk trot, purposely out-pacing Hermione and Harry and heading off my father. “Dad!” I tried to act cheerful and normal, after all I hadn't told him, Charlie wouldn’t tell him and Madame Pomfrey promised me a few extra days. So it was a possibility that Dad could be here for something else. It was wishful thinking, I know, but you can’t blame a guy for trying. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Pack your things, Ronald. You’re coming home.”  
  
I jerked backwards, as if he’d slapped me. I mean, I knew he was angry, but I hadn’t thought he was mad. “What— why?”  
  
“You know why—” Dad’s voice seemed to shake a bit as he spoke. His eyes were glassy and he was taking deep pulls of breath —trying to calm down. It wasn’t really working all that well.  
  
It was strange to see him like this. Usually Dad was laughing and amused by our antics while Mum blew her top and shouted at everyone and everything. “Dad... you alright?”  
  
“Just please,” Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. I motioned for Harry and Hermione to stay back and let me talk to my father alone. That hand motion didn’t prevent a few eavesdroppers who were on their way to lunch from coming closer “Ronald, don’t make a production of this.”  
  
I couldn’t help myself once I heard that; I could blame it on the hormones, but I know full well that hearing that stupid childish phrase rubbed against me in all the wrong ways. “There is no production. You’re the one who’s drawing a crowd.”  
  
“I don't care. Go get your belongings and get ready to go.”  
  
“I’m not leaving.” I shook my head and balled my fist at my side. I had to fight. There was no way I could leave Harry and Hermione here alone. Who would settle Harry when he woke up terrified? Who would put up with Hermione’s devastating sex drive and tell her, ‘ _No ‘Mione, I can't tell that there are any stretch marks_ ’. I couldn’t leave, I didn't want to go. “The term isn’t even over yet.”  
  
“That’s got nothing to do with anything, Ronald.”  
  
“I want to stay.”  
  
“Why? Is the one that is responsible for all this here?” He gestured towards my stomach and I felt a wave of cold wash over me. There was no doubting that he knew.  
  
“Even if he was, I wouldn’t tell you!” Not while he was like this. I was afraid he’d do something he’d regret while he was this mad.  
  
“Ronald, this is no laughing matter!” Dad snapped, “I’ve already called all of your brothers home.”  
  
“What on earth for?” I felt my eyes burn; it was all just so frustrating. Why did he have to blow it all out of proportion? I was handling everything just fine! “It’s not like anyone besides Harry and Hermione knows. They won't tell anyone. No one else will ever even know, Dad.”  
  
“It got out, Ron.”  
  
“It couldn’t have! No one knew until ye—”  
  
Parkinson.  
  
She was in the hospital wing yesterday in the cubicle beside mine. I don’t remember putting up any eavesdropping wards or silencing spells.  
  
“Somehow it got out. I’ve gotten three contract offers already for you and any of your siblings! You were not careful, you were not thinking!” he hissed, stepping closer to me. I knew Dad would never hit me, but I was still nervous. There was anger in his eyes, sure, but there was something else, too. It took me a moment to realize that it was raw panic. I hated what this meant, what was happening —All this because I couldn’t have been born a normal guy. “You weren’t careful and now I’m fighting off the Ministry and half of the wealthy pureblood population. I’m at the end of my rope.”  
  
I could feel the guilt choking me, but I still didn’t move. Harry and Hermione were family. Especially now, you didn’t just leave family behind.  
  
“Go get your things.”  
  
“I’m not leaving.”  
  
I saw Dad’s long thick fingers circle my upper arm before I felt them. His grip was so tight that I wondered if I would bruise. He leaned closer, too, bending his head to mutter an in to my ear. “You misunderstood the situation; I am not asking, I am telling you. If you're going to fight me the entire way, than everything can be shipped home later.”  
  
Cripes.  
  
I hadn’t heard that tone since I was about four and even then, it was directed at the twins not me. He was actually serious about this, he just wouldn’t be moved on the subject.  
  
“Mr. Weasley, please, we’ve been doing so well. There isn’t any reason to take Ron home.”  
  
“He won't be able to finish his NEWTs—”  
  
I hadn’t realized that Harry and Hermione had stepped forward until I felt Hermione’s fingers encircling my free hand. Harry stood to my left and did his best to get through to my father. I knew neither one of them stood a chance of changing my Dad’s mind, but it was nice that they tried.  
  
Dad wasn’t hearing a word that came out of their mouths. In fact, my old man wasn’t even conscious of them being there. Everything was focused on me, which I found ironic because this was the only time that I didn’t want Dad's undivided attention.  
  
I gave Hermione’s hand a squeeze, but never broke eye contact with my father. I wanted to look at Harry, but I didn’t want Dad making the, if I’m honest, not that drastic leap of logic and suspecting that Harry got me up the duff.  
  
“Don’t worry, guys. March isn’t that far off.”  
  
I let go of Hermione’s hand and took a step forward. Dad didn’t let go of my arm until I was ready to Floo to the Burrow.  
  
  
**Part 5**  
  
  
Bill, Charlie and the twins sat across from the hearth where I stepped out. Dad stepped out behind me and turned to help Ginny, who I hadn’t realized was behind us, out of the hearth. Mum was standing off to the side holding a tea tray piled high with sandwiches and grapes.  
  
Looking at my brothers, all very masculine, either long lines or stocky, muscled builds, I was just about ready to throw a full out tantrum. Here they were, all normal-looking and not pregnant, not in disgrace with the man who is almost impossible to make angry, and all of them (okay, maybe not Charlie) were giving me the eye!  
  
I knew that the glamour was still in place but Harry's magic would only last for so long away from its source. I'd have to remove them and redo them before long so I just waved as I walked past my family heading towards the stairs. I just wanted to be alone right now.  
  
The first few steps up were absolute murder on my ankles. These were steeper than the stairs at Hogwarts, and I felt the incline keenly. I made it up to my room within minutes and locked the door behind myself.  
  
Looking around the room for the first time in months was disorienting. All the orange made my head hurt, and the ceiling was so low that I had to bend forward a little, which made my back ache. I crossed over to my bed and carefully settled myself down onto the sagging mattress, knowing sleep would be hard to come by. My room here no longer felt like home. I couldn't figure out if it was because I was so used to Hogwarts or because I had thought that after school I'd be living with Harry and Hermione in our own house.  
  
I dropped my wand on the side table and closed my eyes. I had to think of some way to make Dad realize that he was just being overly paranoid and acting completely insane. Nothing came to me. Dad was beyond listening at this point.  
  
I flopped to the side with a grunt. Lying on my side was unusual for me but it felt better than laying on my back did these days. There I just stared at the door, the only not-orange part of the room.  
  
I stared for a while just enjoying the feel of Harry's magic still on my skin. The glamour would hold for a while longer.  
  


(-)

  
  
I must have dozed off, because shadows were long and the room was more brown than orange when I woke. The baby was playing Quodpot with my bladder and I had to heft myself up and make my way to the loo.  
  
I heard the shower going and pushed the door open. I unbuckled my pants with some difficulty —just because my stomach is hidden from sight doesn't mean its not there— and found my cock. Aiming was a bit tricky but I refused to sit to pee. I'm a man and so I’d decided to act like it until I became too big to stand and piss like one.  
  
I didn't realize I was being watched until I was in front of the sink washing my hands. Charlie was peering out from around the shower curtain, his face scrunched up as he tried to see through the hot fog.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You don't look pregnant." Trust Charlie to get straight to the point.  
  
"Glamour." I grunted and sucked in a breath as I buttoned my trousers back up. I needed Harry to send me the pair of his fat-ass cousin’s sweats that he keeps at the bottom of his trunk.  
  
"Right, right," he said and ducked back into the hot water.  
  
I left the bathroom and looked back up towards my room, debating whether I was hungry enough to walk down to the kitchen and have to brave the steps later, or if I could wait until tomorrow morning to eat. A sharp kick to the spleen cemented my decision. I was going to eat and settle this kid down some before I ended up with bruised organs.  
  
Just as I turned around to head down the steps Charlie left the bathroom, looking refreshed and ready to be nagged to death by Mum for not drying off, not putting on a shirt and having that Dragon tattooed across his shoulders. I stopped to take a look at his pajama bottoms; they were muggle and had that eslastic stuff that Hermione had sewn into her skirts.  
  
“Where’d you find those?”  
  
“The pajamas? They were a gift from one of the tamers on the reserve,” he said as he toweled off his hair. I started down the stairs, walking besides Charlie. It was weird to be as tall as him; he’d always seemed to tower over me, but I knew that soon I’d outstrip him. My build was more like Dad’s. I’d be tall and lanky until died.  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“So…” I pretended not to notice he was watching me, “Did you find out if I get a niece or nephew yet?”  
  
“No. I freaked out when I saw the little ball even light up. I wasn’t going to shake it, too.”  
  
Once we entered the sitting room I let Charlie walk in front of me. For once I didn’t want to noticed, so of course everyone turned to watch as I made my way to what I’d always thought of as _my_ chair. Ginny on my left and Percy’s chair to my right.  
  
Percy.  
  
He still wasn’t here and I didn’t think he’d come unless they dragged him in, kicking and screaming. Percy hated the taste of his own pride and hated swallowing it even more. Half the time, I think he’d die before say he was wrong or try to make up with Mum and Dad.  
  
Thoughts of Percy cleared my mind once Mum put the roast on the table. The table creaked under the weight of the filled tureens and steaming serving bowls. Mum, as always, made enough for an army. It all smelled great, but I had no appetite. Even if I did, I knew that I would have to stick with something bland. There wasn’t a meal on earth worth the three days of heartburn I’d have to deal with later.  
  
We all sat there for a moment, looking at the food and each other out of the corner of our eyes. It was an awkward stillness, but one that broke when Charlie reached across the table and snatched two rolls from the basket. I followed his example, and then everyone started moving and things at least looked normal now.  
  
"It’s nice to have everyone home again,” Mum said with one of her strained smiles.  
  
It was a smile that had seen often when I was little. It was usually her _‘I'm so sorry you have to deal with this’_ smile. That smile I became familiar with when I was small, and asked for a new toy I saw in the display window or had to go to the second-hand shop for clothes.  
  
“It’s a shame Percy didn’t come… He loves pot roast.”  
  
Fred— I think, snorted into his plate, “He loves himself,” and reached for the potatoes, ignoring the look Mum gave him.  
  
“Has he answered any of your messages, Dad?” Bill chimed in also and I let myself relax enough to take a bite of the roll.  
  
This was good, they would talk about Percy and leave me alone for a bit.  
  
“I’ve sent out two Patronus messages and even an owl. Even though with Errol it may be a while, he should have replied by now. It’s dangerous right now.”  
  
“No more dangerous than it ever was before. Death Eaters are everywhere and there was always the risk with Percy living on his own.” Thank you, Ginny, for throwing me under the bus.  
  
“Yes, that was dangerous in itself, but things are even more dangerous now that people are starting to speculate about our family.” I did my best not to look anywhere but my plate as Dad explained everything to Ginny. Apparently she had known more than I thought about our situation but not everything. “…Rumor that Ronald is pregnant. People are curious and are trying to find out —if they do… If they do things will go very wrong very quickly.”  
  
“So what are we going to do?” Charlie asked, ready for what ever was coming his way.  
  
“Tell them that they’re wrong. Show them that they’re wrong.” Bill slouched back in his chair and eyed me speculatively, I knew he couldn’t see my baby bump but I felt like he could.  
  
“I actually am,” I felt their eyes on me and tried to pretend that I was wearing Harry’s invisibility cloak. “… Well. I am …pregnant, you know.”  
  
“I know, and apparently half of the Ministry workers know. Jord Parkinson got an owl from his daughter telling him so.” I wanted to cringe at the chill in my father’s voice. He sounded like a stranger at that moment. I had to look at him to be sure it was my dad sitting at the head of the table.  
  
He stood up and jammed a hand into his pocket. Dad was standing up next to me when he pulled his hand out of his pocket and set whatever it was down on the table beside me. Time seemed to move slowly as he pulled his hand back leaving the thing in plain sight.  
  
“Ron th—”  
  
I knew just what it was. Madame Pomfrey had given Hermione the same vial; the same option. When had orange become such an abominable color to me? I felt my stomach spin and shoved the stupid little thing off of the table. It didn’t break. I wanted it to, but it didn’t.  
  
“That’s your big solution? Kill it!?”  
  
“I know it’s far from easy to make a choice like this, but think of your family, Ronald. If the public finds out, I’m sure that they will try to take you and your siblings. There are precedents, the Grindlewald war, the purity crusades and so many other movements have taken our kind and used them. Bred us like animals until we couldn’t reproduce any longer, all for the sake of stronger soldiers— for the sake of increasing the numbers of purebloods.  
  
"Now there is You-Know-Who and his army! These are dangerous times! Do you really want to bring a child into it?”  
  
“Why not? You did, seven times. Even _knowing_ that there was a chance that we would be what we are.” I stood up sharply and ignored the sound of the chair clattering to the floor. I was very nearly my father’s height and I barely had to tip my chin up to look him in the eye. “You were selfish.”  
  
“There were reasons.”  
  
“Yeah, I get your reasons, but they were still selfish. But be honest, the only reason you had children in the first place was to get away from an arranged marriage.” I heard one of my brothers bark my name, but I ignored him. “And then for reasons I can’t even begin to understand, you keep going until you’ve more children than you could afford.  
  
"And yeah, okay, I fucked up. I got this kid because I loved, enough to trust him with everything, not because I needed an out.”  
  
Dad jerked back as if I’d punched him.  
  
I hadn’t intended for it to come that way but I just couldn’t keep my mouth closed. Just when I had gotten used to the idea of this thing— this baby and the way everything would change – here was my own father, trying to take it away. No, not just take it away, but kill it.  
  
I felt the baby move and nearly heaved. Dad’s mouth was still moving but all I could hear was the blood thumping in my ears as the room spun behind my eyes. I walked away, making my way up those irritating stairs, clutching the banister tightly.  


(-)

  
  
I was sitting on my bed, resting my back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me. The glamour was gone and all I could do was breathe. There was no thinking. There was no movement. There was only the cool night air. It was crisp and smelled like the water from the brook and the grass of the fields next to the house. As I sat there I noticed that the smell of the air changed. The smell of the night air was still there, but even stronger was the smell of flour, rose water and the warm smell that drifted everywhere my mother went.  
  
“Do you speak to him?”  
  
I turned my head and was surprised to see my mother in the doorway. Mum didn’t often trek up the stairs to my bedroom. It was at the top of the house, and nowadays empty more often than not. Mum wore her old dressing gown and had her hair loose around her hips. She never wore her hair up when she was going to bed. For the first time I realized that it wasn’t the same fire red that I was used to. It had dulled to copper and had even begun to turn silver in some areas.  
  
“Dad?” I shook my head, “No, I don’t really want to.”  
  
“Not your father, my grandchild.” Mum smiled softly, came across my room and climbed onto the bed. She settled down besides me, her arm against mine and so very warm. “How far are you?”  
  
“A while in.” I mumbled, knowing she would hear me.  
  
“I’ll need to buy yarn.” Her fingers lace themselves between mine  
  
“I made some stuff … a lot of stuff, really.”  
  
“I didn’t think you still remembered all of that.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Is it a boy or a girl?”  
  
“Dunno.”  
  
“Mm.” Suddenly there was a white ball just like the one in the infirmary in my hand. I watched as the light turned form white to green. “Well go on, shake it.”  
  
I gave the ball a half-hearted shake and watched it turn color.  
  
Mum just smiled.  
  


(-)

  
  
I slept in the next day and came downstairs for breakfast at about half past ten. One of the twins was bent over one of Mum’s old medical potions texts books. Mum was sitting on the sofa beside him, her needles clicking as she knit, her voice softly directing him through the sections as he turned the pages. In the kitchen, Charlie and the twin who wasn’t in the living room were playing chess while Ginny heckled from the sidelines.  
  
I filled the kettle and a pot with water and set them on the range. It wasn’t until I turned to get to the breadbox that I realized they were all staring at me. I licked my lips nervously; no one but Harry and Hermione had seen what I looked like under the glamour.  
  
“My God! You really are pregnant!”  
  
“Thank you Fred —or George, I hadn’t noticed.” My mouth was dry and I tried to shake off their eyes as I moved around the kitchen.  
  
I guess it must have been shocking to be faced with the reality of what was happening instead of the vague impression. I know it was for me.  
  
“Queen to E6.” Charlie gave the orders for the next move and I heaved a sigh of relief. At least if this all went to hell in a handbag I could count on Charlie. It had always been like that for as long as I could remember. Charlie was always the one to bail me out of trouble or just listen when I had a problem.  
  
Halfway through my second slice of toast Hedwig sailed through the window. She dropped a package in front of me and settled down on the table with a graceful flutter. She held out the envelope in her beak to me and pecked half-heartedly at my toast.  
  
_Ron, I’m writing to check in and make sure everything is alright. The school is still wondering where you are. I’m sending you some ice mice, chocolate frogs and crave pops. The shopkeeper said that they’d taste like what ever you want the most at that moment.  
  
Hermione’s sending class notes. I told her this is why you like me more but she doesn’t believe me.  
  
~~Harr~~ with love  
Harry.  
  
P.S. What do you think of green for a kitchen? A soft green. Or maybe even a blue? Hermione won’t move on the whole yellow thing. _  
  
“Thanks Hedwig,” I said around the toast. I took a final bite and passed the rest to Hedwig, who snapped it up gratefully before going to settle on the perch beside poor old Errol.  
  
Things weren’t perfect at that moment, but I knew somehow that they would get better.  
  
  
**Part 6**  
  
  
We were all going stir-crazy. As decreed by Dad, no one was allowed to leave the house alone, and even when you did leave, you had to be within easy earshot. Crossing the property line was completely out of the question. Only Bill and Dad ever left any more, Dad to go to work and Bill to visit Fleur and to secure and rework the wards.  
  
Fred and George were once again attached at the waist. Fred was snarling and irritable, constantly mentioning the shop and how he’d rather be there and managing it himself than wasting money on more staff. George was worried about the shop too, but was mostly invested in keeping Fred distracted and entertained in any way he could and playing mediator between Fred and Ginny, who were butting heads at every turn.  
  
Charlie was sending mail every few days to the Reserve attempting to stay up to date with his dragons.  
  
Knowing this entire fiasco was my fault, I tried to stay out of everyone’s way. It didn’t really work because Mum would nag and drag me down from my room, or where ever else I had isolated myself, and herd me to the sitting room where she shoved a pair of needles in my hands and flicked on the wireless. She talked about everything and nothing as she created a complete wardrobe in a rainbow of colors for the baby, her needles clicking and clacking in a smooth rhythm that more often than not lulled me into a light doze. The rest of my days were spent reading over Hermione's notes and playing chess with my pieces.  
  
The only reason I ever woke up at a decent time was to receive the letters Harry and Hermione would send. Usually, they were just little notes asking how I was feeling or one of Hermione’s pregnancy anecdotes. It made me feel closer to them, even though we were so far away.  
  
A few weeks into my family’s patriarch-imposed exile, I came down the stairs into the kitchen and settled into my usual seat. I glanced across the table as Mum dished up a bowl of muesli with sliced fruit for me. Everyone else was eating omelets and toast that I knew would make a second appearance if I dared have a bite.  
  
I stirred up my breakfast and stared out of the window above the sink for a few moments, waiting for Hedwig to soar through as she usually did. I don’t know why it took me so long to see it, but I saw the little orange vial of death sitting on the shelf under the windowsill. My mouth felt dry and I just couldn’t look in that direction any longer without feeling queasy.  
  
I turned my gaze back toward the table and saw the _Prophet_ ’s front page. **Death Eaters Attack Wizarding Dover! 36 Dead!** it read in bold letters while the town smoldered in black and white under a shimmering dark mark.  
  
I looked into my bowl and kept my eyes there.  
  
The baby needed to eat even if I wasn’t all that hungry.  
  


(-)

  
  
_Ron, I’m writing for the usual reasons; to see how you’re doing and ask after your assignments. (Every professor is willing to take your assignments while you’re out of school). People have started talking and they believe the rumors more and more. Harry and I’ve been trying to do damage control but you know how these things work.  
  
I’m finding that I have to have Harry recast the glamour more and more often. They aren’t holding up as well and I’ve still got four months left. It’s a good thing you went home after all, I guess. I hope things aren’t awful for you over there.  
  
Christmas will be here in just a few days I don’t know what to get anyone this year. I don’t think I’ll be going home to see my parents after all. I don’t want Harry to be left alone, and if he goes to the Burrow, I’m afraid you may be answering some uncomfortable ~~quess~~ questions.  
  
Sorry about the scribbles, the baby has been kicking and it caught me off guard. He’s strong and has a habit of trampling my organs. Mentioning the baby, I’ve narrowed the list down to a dozen names. I’ll send the list with Hedwig so that you can choose your favorites or even add a few names to the pot for consideration.  
  
My boy already knows Harry’s voice! He stretches and kicks and squirms whenever Harry talks to my belly. I want him to know your voice too. I can’t wait until March. I miss you, we all do.  
  
And will you please tell Harry that yellow is a perfectly fine color for the kitchen? He’s being pigheaded about this whole kitchen thing. I mean, really! It's just a color!  
  
All the best and lots of love,  
  
Hermione + 1 ♥_  
  


(-)

  
  
I sat towards the foot of Charlie’s bed, watching as he attempted to pen in my queen. I was playing with a handicap in his favor and still was beating him horribly. Charlie really did suck at chess. I took his knight and settled back against the footboard to watch him make his next move.  
  
“How bad is it?”  
  
“How bad you’re losing? Things were looking pretty bad for you right about three moves ago.” He frowned at the board and I held back a snicker; there was no redemption and his pieces knew it. They didn’t even bother to heckle like they usually did. “Now there’s not a snowball's chance in hell.”  
  
“No, not that. I meant being… well you know.” He waved a hand vaguely, and my, I really did know.  
  
“It's not really all that bad. Well, the first few months were, because just about everything made me sick, my nose kept running and the heartburn is a killer, but over all its not too awful.” I shrugged and moved my rook into position. “Why?”  
  
“I think about having one someday, no time soon, but I figure it would be nice… and if I can stay unattached.”  
  
I had to laugh, that was Charlie for you. “Forever the bachelor, huh?”  
  
“I’m married to my dragons, Norberta’s my first love! I never did thank you for that, did I? You sending for me got me my first dragon to tame. I was interning at the Reserve, which would have taken a few years because dragons only go into birthing cycles once every fifteen years or so.”  
  
“You would have had to wait fifteen years?”  
  
“No, four years, but luckily I didn’t have to wait at all!”  
  
“Glad I could be of service, then.” I moved my bishop and just as I was about to announce checkmate, I heard the door across the hall slam. I jumped, startled. Charlie padded over to the door and opened it slowly. In a house like, this you went outside for privacy. Conversations within the walls of the Burrow were fair game.  
  
“We have to do something!” I heard my father snarl. He must have just come in from work.  
  
“There is nothing we can do, Arthur,” Mum told him. I don’t doubt that she was holding a kettle. It seemed to be the Weasley way: when something is wrong, drink tea.  
  
“We can’t _do_ nothing, Molly. I’ve got people knocking at my office door because their owls can’t get through the wards. Dozens and dozens of people requesting appointments and calling me over on false alarms to offer me contracts.”  
  
“And I’m sure you declined every last one of them.”  
  
“Of course!” I heard the chink of a mug being set on the table a bit too firmly. “Lucius Malfoy, _Malfoy_ of all people, is asking me to give him Ronald so that his son can continue their line. You should see what they are offering! As if I’ll sell my children to them!”  
  
“Let me guess, you had a grand time of slamming your office door in his face.”  
  
“You know me far too well.” There was a rustle of fabric, maybe a hug or Mum going across the kitchen to get the sweet rolls that she had baked earlier. “Its going to come back to bite me in the arse, I’m sure, but damn did it feel good.”  
  
I couldn’t listen to this anymore. I bowed my head and pressed my face into my palms. I had a feeling that things were going to get really bad really quickly.  
  


(-)

  
  
_Ron,  
Be careful. There are reporters skulking around the school grounds looking for anything on you to write about. They interviewed a few people before Dumbledore could find them and make them leave.  
  
The papers are running a story on you and your family. They’re digging up what ever they can find. Watch your back and don’t leave the house unless you have to.  
  
Be safe,  
Harry_  
  


(-)

  
  
_Ron,  
  
I just really want to be with you right now. Harry’s in detention and I need a hug— not that Harry is any good at hugging, but still. The last few days have been an absolute nightmare.  
  
Last night during dinner the glamour slipped in the middle of the great hall! I was half way across the hall to the door when it unraveled. I was completely out there, my stomach was poking and my stance was different and it was just so obvious even with the robes that I am pregnant.  
  
I feel just awful because Harry’s been getting into trouble for defending—_  
  
I couldn’t stand to read any more. I just knew exactly the kinds of things they would say, the names they would call her and the constant stares and speculation of whether Harry or I were the father. I sat down and penned a letter too Hermione, attached my missing assignments and wrapped up the last of the sweet rolls that my mother had baked and sent them off with Hedwig.  
  
I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the letter. I didn’t want to think of Hermione being unhappy or regretting keeping the baby if in fact she did.  
  
It was all just one giant shit storm. I knew that I was the cause of his entire mess; I just didn’t know what to do about it.  
  
  
**Part 7:**  
  
  
Right so remember that old saying that when you drop the silverware someone's coming to dinner? I dropped a fork that I couldn’t pick up no matter which way I bent. Ginny who was in the next room came in and saw me struggling to reach the floor. She of course laughed and then snatched the fork up from the floor.  
  
“Oh yeah, real funny.” I grumbled half-heartedly, relieved that at least one person was smiling.  
  
“How do you tie your shoes in morning?” She grinned and rinsed off the fork.  
  
“I don’t, I’ve been barefoot ever since I came home and at school I used magic.” Ginny chuckled again and I could feel a grin stretching across my face. “You think that’s bad, my trousers—”  
  
The Floo in the sitting room roared, my head snapped to the side looking to see who it was. The Floo pass codes had been changed and no one had come through since I had come home, Dad appartated to and from work now. I let my wand slide into my hand and stepped in front of Ginny.  
  
From the green flames emerged Kingsley, carrying something large wrapped up in one of the tarps the ministry used to cover dead bodies. I blanched and stepped forward. The only one unaccounted for was Percy and Dad who would come home for lunch in just a few minutes. Either way, this was looking really bad.  
  
“Ginny, go get Mum.” I pushed her towards the steps and kept walking towards what felt like my nightmare.  
  
“Kingsley?” Kingsley turned his head in my direction and managed to give me a small smile. “Hey, kid.” He shifted the weight in his arms and looked me over. “So there’s truth to all the stories then?”  
  
I flushed deep red, ignored him and stepped closer. Once I was close enough I pulled back the sheet to reveal my older brother’s freckled face. “Percy?”  
  
I must have sounded like I was two seconds from full on sobbing and hysteria because Kingsley put a huge warm hand on my shoulder and slowly said “He was being difficult so I had to stun him.”  
  
“Oh, thank g—”  
  
As if on cue Mum ran into the room and shrieked! She had pushed past me and had her fingers hovering just a breath away from Percy’s face as if she was afraid to touch him. I can’t remember ever seeing her move that fast before. “My boy, my boy…”  
  
“Can you please point me to his bedroom?” Kingsley’s skin between his eyes was creased and sweat was starting to gather on his brow. “He’s very heavy and it’s not too healthy to leave him stunned for this long.”  
  
Mum’s eyes snapped up to Kingsley’s face and for a second I thought she might kiss him. “This way,” she said and guided him up the stairs. I lingered at the banister and waited for everyone else to start up the stairs knowing that I’d lag behind.  
  
Dad walked through the door just as Ginny disappeared up the steps. I watched for a moment as he took off his coat and washed his hands in the kitchen sink. He stood and continued his normal routine as I watched. I had never realized how his face had become lined or his eyes ringed with the dark smudges of sleepless nights.  
  
“Percy’s home!” I called and led the way up the stairs knowing that he’d follow in a moment.  
  
I stopped by the twins' room and saw that Percy had been put in there. I watched over Mum’s shoulder as Fred and George pushed their belongings over to one side of the bedroom while Ginny changed the sheets of the bed. Kingsley unwrapped Percy and lay him on the bed with gentleness that I never expected of a man his size.  
  
“Kingsley,” Dad greeted the Auror as he walked to Percy’s bedside. “What happened?”  
  
“With your family across the covers of the papers I’m going to go with Kidnapping. He showed up at the Ministry in poor shape with spell damage and a few broken bones. I dropped him off at the medics and then went to his apartment.  
  
Percy managed to incapacitate two of his assailants the third one decapitated. Those two are in custody and apparently gave your boy one hell of a fight. The place is completely trashed, the locks on the door are broken and the Floo had been interfered with.”  
  
“How did h-he get away.” Fred’s voice cracked a bit and my mouth was dry.  
  
“Ministry employee port key. He turned up in the main vestibule and looked worse for wear. I was coming in to the office and saw him. Speaking of the ministry, Arthur, don’t go back to work. There is a warrant coming through for you and your family. They are enforcing the Blood preservation act.”  
  
Dad let out a huge puff of air and Mum made a choking sound.  
  
I backed up into the hall, I had to get away from everyone. Some how I was back in the kitchen and staring at the little orange vial on the shelf above the sink. I picked it up and let it roll between my fingers before clenching it tightly.  
  
Was it too late to tell the media that they had everything wrong?  
  
Could I live knowing that the endearingly annoying little footie player in my womb wouldn’t be there the next day?  
  
Would it hurt?  
  
Would they hate me? I would hate me… but my family was in danger and what could I do?  
  
“Why are you just standing there?” I looked over my shoulder at Charlie. Who had come back from where ever the hell he had went with Bill at his shoulder. “That’s really strange.”  
  
I opened my mouth but there were no words for me to say.  
  
“What’s that in your hand Ron?” It was Bill who came over and pried open my fingers. He looked at me, the vial and then me again. “Ron?”  
  
“Percy’s home…” I murmured, not really wanting to talk.  
  
“What did the little twat say?”  
  
“Nothing, Bill.” I feel a little bad that the first thing that comes to mind is that Percy was being a dick but usually that would be the case.  
  
Charlie came closer to see what Bill and I were talking about, he drew up short a few feet from us and I felt my stomach plummet through my heels and through the ground. “Is… is this what you want, Ron? I thought that you were keeping it.”  
  
I couldn’t keep looking into my brothers eyes, for all I knew the baby would have brown eyes like Bill and Charlie. I looked down at the stupid little bottle of death in my palm and caught my own reflection. But the orange made my blue eyes look an unearthly green.  
  
I wouldn’t ever do it. I couldn’t do it to the baby, I couldn’t do it to myself and I definitely couldn’t do such a thing to Harry. I was so preoccupied with my family here that I forgot that I had another one to think about.  
  
“Percy got hurt fighting off some kidnappers, he’s upstairs...” I still didn’t look up but I heard the footsteps on the stairs and knew Bill had left the room.  
  
“You alright?”  
  
“I’ll be fine in a minute… just give me a minute.”  
  
Apparently Charlie didn’t understand that I needed a moment to collect myself and tugged me into the sitting room. He sat down on the sofa and pulled me down half on top of him, half on the couch.  
  
“Charlie—”  
  
“Shut up, Ronnie.” There was an arm across my shoulders dragging me against my big brother’s chest and I just couldn’t hold it together anymore.  
  
“I’m not a girl!” I said helplessly doing my best to stem the flow of tears. “I’m not!”  
  
“I never said you were, hell I’m not a girl either.” Charlie grumbled in my ear as I struggled to breathe.  
  
“I’m up the duff and crying about it like one!”  
  
“Crying doesn’t mean that you are a girl. It means you’re overstretched and frustrated and need to let some of that go.”  
  
"It means that these fucking hormones are driving me nuts and making me cry every time I think of something stupid!"  
  
"That could be it too, but lets not worry about it now. Lets just relax for a minute or two, hmm?"  
  
"I can't just not worry."  
  
Charlie's rough half laugh rumbled through his chest and somehow into my back. I felt like I was six again, sitting in my big brother's lap while he fixed whatever the twins had done to me this time all while telling them off.  
  
"Trust me, I understand what you mean. I fucked Tonks behind the green house when I was in fifth year. Her period was late and she thought she was pregnant for all of three days.  
  
When we were sure she wasn’t expecting we went behind the green house for a congratulatory shag. Right when she got her hands in my pants Professor Sprout came around back and caught us. I was relieved and scared at the same time. Before that moment Tonks couldn’t have known what I _looked like_ , you know. But she felt it for sure that time and had to know… I was panicking for days afterward afraid she'd tell someone, she never did but I was still scared out of my wits."  
  
I just leaned my head back against Charlie's shoulder and sighed deeply. "I haven’t chosen a name yet..."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yeah." Just then the sprog started pounding on my stomach. I pulled Charlie's arm from my shoulder and placed his hand on my stomach. "You feel the kicking?"  
  
"Whoa-yeah… I …yeah." Charlie's eyes were huge and he was looking at my stomach with a strange awe.  
  
"I couldn’t take that stuff… I couldn’t even seriously think about it… not when this is what I feel all the time."  
  


(-)

  
  
Percy wasn’t exactly happy to be home. He was stand offish and irritated, jumping at every sound and just all over infuriating. I had come down to breakfast at about half past seven and was greeted to one of his more dramatic compulsive fits.  
  
"I am an adult! I don’t have to come at your beck and call anymore!" he brayed as he tugged at the knob of the kitchen door. "So let me out!" He was just minutes from blowing something up, his magic slipped his control whenever he worked himself up enough.  
  
Dad was seated at the table studiously ignoring every word Percy said the same way he ignored all of our childhood tantrums. I wanted to laugh but I didn’t, it would have been cruel.  
  
Percy was always high strung and so easily bothered by even the smallest of things. If the twins moved one of his books out of order he would fret around the room trying to find out why everything was wrong. He was anal about eating things too. Percy only ate things if they were round or the number of whatever was on his plate was divisible by three. He'd focus entirely too much on one thing until he got stuck. It wasn't his fault but it was just the way he was.  
  
Percy had moved from the kitchen door to walking in circles around the table and tugging a bit roughly at his hair. For some reason unknown to the rest of us Percy couldn’t use the door through the sitting room without hyperventilating.  
  
"Why won't you let me out?" Percy pulled at the door with a low whine and turned on his heel to begin pacing anew. "I need to go home. I need to feed Hermes."  
  
"Hermes showed up last night, love. He's out on the tree with Errol and Pig." Mum tried to calm him down as she carefully spooned food onto Percy's plate making sure nothing would touch.  
  
"I need to water my plants."  
  
"What plant, Perce?" George sniped watching Percy pace the kitchen anticlockwise with his head propped up on his free hand. "You're terrified of dirt."  
  
I took a deep breath and strode forward into the kitchen. I walked clockwise around the table a few times. Walking past Percy a few times on either side to break the pattern he had worked himself into. On the fifth circuit around the table I planted myself in his path. He couldn’t retrace his steps and looked around nervously.  
  
"Aren't you hungry, Percy?" I asked, knowing that he couldn’t help but to answer a direct question.  
  
"Yes, but I need to go home. I have eggs in the cold cabinet and they'll go bad."  
  
"But Mum just made eggs, if you don’t eat these they'll go bad and it will be a waste." I sat in the chair between Ginny and the place set just for Percy. Percy looked longingly at the door then at his plate with the scrambled eggs and sat down.  
  
Even when we were kids I was able to get him to stop panicking. All it took was an interruption and a suitable distraction.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Yeah Percy?" I asked between bites keeping my eyes on my plate.  
  
"Why did you do this?"  
  
I didn't have an answer for that one.  
  


(-)

  
  
February came with unpleasant weather and even more unpleasant news. On the Prophet was a picture of Hermione, Neville and Luna the three of them were in Hogsmeade walking through the streets and chatting. Hermione looked well; her hair was pulled back into a braid and she was wearing her usual denims, jumper and winter coat. Only this time instead of being snugly closed the coat was undone after the third button giving her large round stomach leeway. It was obvious that she was pregnant.  
  
**Father drama!**  
_By Edna Weissman_  
  
I licked my lips and opened the paper with no little amount of hesitation.  
  
_How many of our readers actually know who the young lady on today's cover is? The answer is not enough! This young lady goes by the name of Hermione Granger and while the name may not ring bells for high society it certainly is well known in the circles that our esteemed savior, Harry Potter, travels. Ms. Granger, one of the closest friends of the Boy-Who-Lived, is pregnant!  
  
Because Ms Granger was unavailable for an interview I had to do some research and detective work of my own. Ms Granger is quite a few months along and had kept the pregnancy hidden for as long as she could, which certainly brings up questions. How far along is she? Is she expecting a boy or a girl? How is this star student coping with impending motherhood? And most importantly who is the father!?  
  
Now, my wonderful readers, there is quite the list of possibilities according to my sources. Ms Granger seems to have a taste for high profile men; Vicktor Krum, Bulgarian Quidditch Star, Gideon Crumb of the Weird Sisters, Ronald Weasley  (see December 20th issue of Daily prophet) and **the** Harry Potter!  
  
I know, right! Lucky girl!  
  
Well I've gotten the inside scoop and found out that Ms Granger and the quidditch all star Krum haven’t seen each other face to face for over a year even though they frequently exchange long and steamy letters to one another. Because the weird sisters have been on tour overseas I'm not too confident that Gideon Crumb is the culprit (even though with international floo anything is possible)!  
  
With those two ruled out the only two left in the running are Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived to be a total dreamboat and Ronald Wealsey, high profile Hermaphrodite and youngest son of one of the Purest lines in the UK! Either is an excellent catch for this young muggle born but which one is it?  
  
I've interviewed several of their school mates to try and get to the bottom of things! Ms Granger is rarely out of the company of these two fine young men and has been known to sleep in the boys dorm with her man of choice. The scandal! I can barely take it! None of the sixth year Gryffindors would give me the slightest scrap of information but rest assured I'll get to the bottom of this mystery!  
  
Signing off  
Edna Weissman, Daily Prophet's head of society news_  
  


(-)

  
  
  
Percy was just about manic four days in, he paced, snapped at every one, and kept trying the warded kitchen door periodically. This morning as I sat next to him I saw the wheals that had cropped up with his constant scratching, I could already see where his skin had began to tear.  
  
"Mum,"  
  
My mother turned and looked at me. I flicked my eyes at Percy and lightly scratched my arm. She understood because she stood, passed me a plate and went to the sitting room.  
  
I let the conversations wash over me as I gazed out of the window, searching the sky for Hedwig and absentmindedly chewed. A letter hadn't come for me in nearly a week. I missed the missives from Hermione and Harry but I knew Harry would only allow Hedwig to carry his letters. The chances were Harry was sending letters to Remus and the Goblins.  
  
Though I didn’t catch sight of Hedwig I saw a dozen owls making their way toward the house. Bill had seen them too and opened the window wide. One by one they glided into the kitchen lining up along the high shelves where the cook books were and on the window ledge.  
  
Dad reached for the closest owl, an angry looking gray thing, and plucked the letter from its beak. From across the table I could make out the seal of the Ministry of Magic. I knew it couldn’t be good news, the ministry never gave good news only the bad and the worse. They were allergic to common sense and good judgement.  
  
Everyone watched avidly as Dad read the letter looking for just a hint of what was in it on his face. From his fisted hands, quickened breath, slump of his shoulders and pained expression it was resigned fury.  
  
"What is it, Arthur?" Mum wiped her hands with a towel and made her way over to him. Her eyes flickered from left to right as she read over his shoulder. "They can't… they don’t really… they can't do this."  
  
"They can and they are." With a careless flick of his wrist Dad tossed the paper to the center of the table.  
  
A twin, probably Fred, snatched it up and skimmed it. "At the request of a _concerned citizen_ , the Ministry of Magic has started an investigation to ensure that the Blood Preservation Act is being upheld in the region of St. Catchpole.  
  
Please be prepared for the ministry liaison. Your liaison will arrive to your home at eleven twenty-two am. To reschedule please contact the office of domestic wizarding affairs three days prior to the intentioned visitation date."  
  
"What happens if we just leave?"  
  
"Then we lose any chance we had at making things alright again." Dad said as he dragged a hand over his face.  
  
"Like we can make anything right at this point," came Percy's snide and panicked reply. "What do we do now?"  
  
"You know I try to keep out of your private lives as much as possible but this is important. Who are you all currently with and how serious is it?"  
  
"I'm engaged to Fleur."  
  
"I've got nothing and no one." Charlie shrugged and puffed out a breath. "I'm married to my job."  
  
"Penelope and I broke it off. I've just started out with Audrey from the Magical Law Enforcement department." Percy scratched absently at his arm and avoided everyone's eyes. "I doubt she'd want to deal with all this trouble. She's nice….I like her a lot."  
  
The twins grimaced and clasped each other's hands tightly. "We'll lay claim to each other." Fred's eyes flickered to George's face as if he was looking for something there but George was staring at the table with his head bowed. "We've got no one else."  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll be alright." I spat quickly before he could ask anything else. I was half certain that my family expected that Harry was the one that got me pregnant but I didn’t admit it to anyone but Charlie.  
  
"Ginny?"  
  
"No one serious. And certainly not to marry." Ginny shrugged, "Besides, I'm not…" She trailed off and started to push her eggs around the plate.  
  
"That doesn’t matter at this point, you carry the gene."  
  
"So all we really have to worry about is Ginny, Percy and Charlie…. " Mum was nervous despite her cheerful voice. I could tell by the way she gripped the kettle, so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as she topped off everyone's mugs. "That shouldn’t be too hard."  
  
Dad was going through the other letters and packages silently, ignoring his breakfast as he sorted them in to two piles.  
  
"What are those, Dad?" Charlie snagged another piece of toast from the basket in the center of the table and I followed suit. Trying for normalcy at this point seemed to be the only safe course of action.  
  
"Betrothal contacts and offers… half of these are from known Death Eaters." Dad snorted and gave bit of a chuckle as he flipped one letter toward the center of the table. "If Lucius Malfoy honestly thinks I'll let him get at any of my children he's even more deluded that I thought he was."  
  
"Malfoy?"  
  
"Yeah, he requested either Percy or Ron to be wed to his son."  
  
"I'd probably take that little ferret's face off." I grumbled and scooped some food into my mouth. "I don’t think Percy would let him with in two feet."  
  
"Absolutely not," Percy said, the disgust clear in his tone. "He does not wash his hands when he leaves the bathroom. I've seen it."  
  
If the situation hadn’t been so serious I'd probably break down laughing right then and there. But it was and I couldn’t find the humor in the situation or my appetite.  
  


(-)

  
  
There were two minutes until the ministry official was due to arrive so I eased myself into a sitting position on the second story landing. I was out of sight but could see the sitting room clearly. I kept myself on the outskirts, not wanting my family to remember that all this was my fault.  
  
Dad was sitting in his armchair with Ginny perched on the arm as he flipped through a thick tome on ministry law. Bill stood beside Charlie with a thick hand on Charlie's shoulder. It was probably some weird and exclusive older brother comforting gesture because Charlie's body went slack and he leaned into Bill's shoulders. Fred and George were sitting beside each other, heads bowed as they whispered between themselves. Percy was sitting on the sofa picking his nails bloody despite Mum's best efforts to get him to stop.  
  
When the doorbell chimed I closed my eyes and let out a long deep breath. When I opened my eyes two men were standing in the sitting room; one I had never seen before and the other I recognized as the old Lion himself Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minster for Magic.  
  
"Good afternoon, Arthur!" the tall one said cheerfully as if he didn’t know why he was here.  
  
"Good day, Jonas. Minister." Dad looked over his shoulder back at Mum and she nodded before leaving to the kitchen. "What can I do for you today gentlemen?"  
  
"Arthur, you and I both know why we're here." The Minister pulled a hand through his shaggy hair in a way that, oddly enough, brought Hermione to mind. "Jonas is going to be the one conducting the medical examinations of you and your family."  
  
"My family's health is important enough to bring the minister out from headquarters?"  
  
My brothers had gotten to their feet and began to gather towards the kitchen entrance during the conversation.  
  
"If the rumors are true? Then yes." Dad's fist clenched tightly and his jaw was set so tightly that it looked painful. "Don’t be like this Arthur. It’s the law and unfortunately until the Wizengamot repeals the law I have been chosen to uphold the law."  
  
"Uphold the law, defend the wizarding community— sure you took those vows but what now? You act as if we're—"  
  
"Uh," The tall one— Jonas, interrupted, "Is there a room where I can conduct the physicals privately?"  
  
Scrimgeour huffed a deep breath and sat down on the sofa as if he belonged there. "Arthur, tell me you won't fight me on this. This is the last thing I wanted to do and I really don’t want to have to arrest you either."  
  
"We'll cooperate." Dad ground out between his teeth.  
  
"Follow me." Bill stepped forward and led the man into the back room we used for storage.  
  
For five minutes the Minister and my father stared each other down unmoving and barely taking notice of the tea and cake Mum brought out. My siblings were talking softly amongst each other while watching the stand off.  
  
Bill returned from the back room looking more than a little irritated and red faced. He tapped Percy on the shoulder and nodded in the direction of the back room.  
  
Percy came out of the back room shivering and refusing to look at anyone, clearly he was mortified that the medic had seen his bits without buying him dinner first.  
  
Charlie was calm about the whole thing. His exam was quicker than the rest, making me think he just dropped trou as soon as the door was closed. The twins went together, as expected.  
  
Jonas took one look at Ginny and flushed dark red. "I ...would you like a chaperone?"  
  
"She's the only gene carrier of the family." Dad disrupted the almost silence with his gruff reply. "One hundred percent female, you have my word on it."  
  
"Is your word all that reliable these days Arthur?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You were trying to claim just two weeks ago that your children being hermaphrodites was just a rumor."  
  
"Regardless of that situation Ginevra's completely female. And because she is fifteen and not of marriageable age my daughter is exempt from this either way."  
  
The minister leaned back on his heels and narrowed his eyes at my father. "You have seven children don't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"The final one is about to be seventeen is he not?"  
  
"Yes, in March."  
  
"Where is your missing 'son', Arthur?"  
  
I couldn't put this off for much longer so with a huff of breath I gripped the banister and hefted myself up on to my feet. The stairs creaked under my weight and I could feel all eyes on me as I made my way down to the sitting room, eyes focused on my stomach (I would have stared at my feet but the stomach was in the way).  
  
"Oh my."  
  
I'm not sure if it was the medic Jonas or the minister that gasped but I flushed red all the same. Glamours stopped working a while ago and my stomach was way beyond noticeable.  
  
"I'm number seven," I volunteered, trying to break the oppressing silence. "Well, six really."  
  
"Well, there's no doubt about you, is there?" Jonas walked over and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "How far along are you...?"  
  
"Ron and er... about six months?"  
  
"Congrats!"  
  
I followed Jonas to the back room, doing my best to avoid everyone's eyes. I knew that this whole fiasco was my fault. If I hadn’t been dumb enough to let this all happen we wouldn’t have been exposed and the lot of us wouldn’t have to endure Jonas' clammy hands.  
  
The physical was quick, a few magical scans, a quick question and answer and I have a feeling that if I wasn’t obviously pregnant that I would have been asked to loose my pants so he could make sure I really was a hermaphrodite.  
  
We were out of the storage room in ten minutes and back to the sitting room. I sat down on the unoccupied sofa, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Just when I got comfortable the baby decided that it had to switch positions and lean on my spleen. I winced and pushed a few fingers against where I could feel it resting trying to encourage the little brat to scoot over.  
  
"Jonas?" I heard the rustling of parchment they were passed off and flicked through by Scrimgeour. "Congratulations Arthur, you've got healthy marriageable children. Now on to the more pressing matters, the Ministry Decree 6721-03A."  
  
I cracked my eyes open just enough to see my brothers come to the couch. Percy stood behind me picking at the little lint pills on the back of the old thing. George took the seat between Bill and I. Charlie and Fred sat on either one of the arms. Ginny and Mum sat on the oversized armchair that Dad usually sat in. The tension in the room was so thick I doubt you could have cut it with a hack saw.  
  
"What's the issue?" my father demanded, not even faking civility.  
  
"Why are none of them married?"  
  
"Most of us are full fledged adults, you know," Bill interjected, "We are capable of answering your questions."  
  
"Yes, well then." The minister cleared his throat and glanced at the papers in his hand. "William, is it? Why are you not married? There is a law you know. "  
  
Bill lifted his left hand and wiggled his ring finger. "I am engaged to be married and will have my wedding this summer. My fiancé wasn’t of age until recently and she prefers summer weddings."  
  
Scrimgeour nodded abruptly and made a note on the parchment, "She will have to come make a formal claim at the ministry tomorrow. Are there any other claims I should know of?"  
  
"We lay claim to each other," the twins said in eerie unison.  
  
The minister frowned, "That's too close for children isn’t it?"  
  
"No law says we've got to have children," George said. "There isn’t anything saying we can't marry," Fred pointed out. "Hell, we're purebloods it's what we do."  
  
"I'm part of a triad, so I'll have my partners go tomorrow as well." I knew Percy would never speak up for himself so I interjected for him, "Percy's girlfriend, Audrey, will come forward tomorrow." I lied through my teeth and promised myself to write the woman a letter right after the minister left.  
  
"And you?" The man fixed his eyes on Charlie expectantly.  
  
"I don’t want to marry, I work in Romania. So I'm applying for citizenship."  
  
"That won't cut it, applying for citizenship takes months, even years at times.  
You're thirteen years over the deadline, the Ministry will now take over your pairing arrangements."  
  
"That's ridiculous!"  
  
"It could very well be worse. You are a citizen and you were also a resident from ages eighteen to twenty three. That’s five years that you were unwed and disregarding the law. By all rights you should be in Azkaban." Charlie blanched, turning such a sickly white that his freckles looked yellow against his skin. "I repeat, the ministry will make the arrangements."  
  
  
**Part 8:**  
  
Let it be known that I love my brothers enough to do just about anything for them. I had to remind myself of this as I settled on the floor in front of the fireplace in the late hours of the night.  
  
It was hard to lower myself onto the floor without overbalancing. I had yet to become accustomed to a new lower center of gravity and wider hips but the weight of my stomach made it even odder. Once I was finally on the floor my back was aching deeply and the pressure my stomach put on my bladder made me suddenly want to whiz. Being the fantastic brother that I am, I ignored the feeling and tossed a fistful of Floo into the banked fire.  
  
"Talos Towers, Apartment 6, Audrey Levers." The fire flared green and then I stuck my head in the flames. It tickled a bit and seemed harmless but I made sure nothing but my shoulders passed the hearth.  
  
The part of the apartment I could see was nice. It was a decent size and there was a sofa in the center of the room and two bookshelves on each side and a standing lamp in the corner. To my right I could see two doors both were open and I tried to see if she was home. "Er... Audrey! Audrey!" I heard shifting in the distance and shouted louder.  
  
This time a tall woman peered out from one of the doorways, her wand pointed discretely in the direction of the fireplace. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
"Er. Hi there." I called hesitantly into the room. I don’t know why I was suddenly so shy with my head in this woman's fireplace bellowing like a maniac in the early morning. "My name is Ron. I'm Percy's younger brother."  
  
"How did you get my floo address?"  
  
"Tonks owed me a favor."  
  
"Hm, right then. Well what could you possibly want at two in the morning, Ron?" She asked in a sugary sweet baby voice, sarcasm dripping from each and every word.  
  
"I… I wanted to talk to you."  
  
"And you couldn’t have called me at a civil hour to do so?"  
  
"Look it's for Percy. He'd never ask you to and I doubt you even know what's going on so just give me ten freaking minutes!" I snapped at her, tired of her patronizing tone and my perpetual backache.  
  
Audrey nodded and stepped out from behind the door and walked over to the sofa where she sat with her legs crossed at the ankles. I was honestly surprised when I saw her. She wasn’t Percy's usual clean-cut type. She was tall with short black hair, a pointed heart shaped face with sharp features, a small gem on her pierced nose and muggle tattoos from her collar bones down her arms and from what I could see peeking out from under the heinously short dressing gown on the inside of her left thigh as well.  
  
"You want to talk, so talk."  
  
"Have you kept up with ministry gossip lately? The whole Hermaphrodite thing?"  
I hoped that she would know the situation so that I wouldn’t have to explain but I had no such luck.  
  
"Just a bit here and there, I don’t really do gossip."  
  
"Look, the ministry found out about our family. My brothers and I are all hermaphrodites and the minster is giving them the choice between Azkaban or an arranged marriage."  
  
"Is that even legal?" she sputtered, her voice shrill with outrage.  
  
"Yeah, it is. Most of us have wormed out of it because we've got fiancées or intended partners who are coming to place a claim on us at tomorrow's meeting."  
  
"Is that why he hasn’t answered my floo calls and owls?"  
  
"He's not answered because he's not at his apartment. He was attacked and Dad forced him to move back home until things died down."  
  
"He should have told me," she muttered, almost growling in irritation. "I mean we're supposed to be getting to know each other and all that rot. Why not let me know?"  
  
"Percy's erm… odd. A little crazy— not kill-you-in-your-sleep crazy, mind you! Just a that…. You know, I-have-to-wash-this-plate-three-times-in-an-anticlockwise-motion-before-I-can-eat-off-of-it crazy. And I reckon I've just killed his chances with you haven’t I…?"  
  
"No… not really." Audrey smiled softly and I saw first hand just how lovely she really was. "I know he's neurotic… it's comforting in a way. I'm an Auror. I like things to be clear and predictable. Besides if I didn’t like him I wouldn’t have asked him out."  
  
"I should've known." There was no way Percy would have had the bollocks to ask a woman like this out for coffee let alone a dinner date.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Um nothing." I pushed the thought out of my head and got on with the matter at hand, "Look, he's my brother and I don’t want him to get stuck with some power hungry politician or social climber who wouldn’t make him happy or treat him like more than prime breeding stock."  
  
"You're sweet you know that." She got up and waved to me before she went back to the other room. "Good night Ron."  
  
I pulled my head out of the fireplace before it changed back to its original orange and shifted until I was lying flat on my back. Surprisingly enough, this was the most comfortable I had been in ages. The floor was nicely warmed from the heat of the fire and didn’t dip in with my weight as the bed did and my constant backache was practically gone.  
  


(-)

  
  
I can't remember when I had fallen asleep in front of the fireplace but I knew that I had. The only reason I woke up was because I felt the uncomfortable sensation of someone staring at me. I opened my eyes just a bit, I figured that if it was just one of the family portraits staring at me then I'd ignore it and go back to sleep.  
  
It wasn’t a portrait but my father staring at me.  
  
Dad sat perched on his brown leather chair, leaning forward with one elbow resting on his knee, chin in his palm and a snifter of what looked like brandy dangling loosely in the fingers of his other hand. The golden glow of the fire played oddly across his face and highlighted the wrinkles on his forehead, at the corner of his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth. Dad's eyes were trained on my face so I just gave in and looked straight at him.  
  
Everything became eerily still until Dad broke the tension. "Your mother used to do the same thing. She said sleeping on the floor helped her back at night."  
  
"Yeah, it feels better than the bed and I don’t have to climb the stairs."  
  
Dad lifted the glass to his lips and took a deep gulp. "I can’t believe you're pregnant."  
  
"You know what we are."  
  
"I don’t mean it like that." Dad put the cup down between his bare feet and straightened up. He rubbed his face briskly and slouched back against the chair. "Ronald, you are my youngest son. As much as you probably hate to hear it, you're my baby boy. I wasn’t expecting you to have a child for quite some time and I expected even less for you to be the one carrying it."  
  
I propped myself up on my elbows and looked my father in the eye for the first time in weeks. "Is that what the whole 'kill it' thing was about?"  
  
"No, son. That was not the point. I honestly don’t care what gender you prefer and honestly it doesn’t matter either way." He made an odd gesture and I nipped the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.  
  
"Don’t worry, I understand." I pushed myself up into a seated position with as little grunting as I could manage. "for what it's worth I'm sorry about the whole mess. I know it's my fault."  
  
"I don’t think you are at fault Ron. It's just unfortunate circumstances."  
  
"Percy attacked and Charlie about to be handed over to some hapless diplomat isn’t exactly what I would call _just_ unfortunate circumstances"  
  
"What else can I really say here? I've got nothing left to fall back on. At this point I'm just hoping that we come through this in one piece."  
  


(-)

  
  
Because I was pregnant I couldn’t travel by Floo or Port Key. Instead of the quicker, more dangerous methods of transportation I got onto the Knight Bus with Charlie, my all too willing chaperone. The trip was long. It took nearly fifteen minutes to get there and the stupid machine lurched and shook the whole time. I was two seconds from throwing up and green around the gills when I got off.  
  
I followed Charlie from the fellytone booth down to the ministry lobby following him closely and keeping my eyes trained on my older brother's shoulder blades in an attempt to ignore the piercing eyes and scandalized mutters.  
  
The lifts were even worse to stand in. There were people on every side watching me. I couldn’t even try to blend in because the ridiculously noticeable bulge of my stomach and clearly masculine face and shoulders made me the obvious anomaly.  
  
It couldn't have taken more than five minutes to reach the minister's office but those five minutes stretched to an eternity. The eyes of strangers were always on me no matter how hard Charlie tried to keep me from view, my ankles and back ached horribly and I waddled more than walked. Still I got to the minister's office and walked past his secretary who was too interested in her issue of Witch Weekly to notice my brother and I walk right past her and into the Minister's office.  
  
I looked around Charlie's shoulder at the crowd gathered into the room. Minister Scrimgeour was standing beside his parchment-covered desk, leaning a hip against it while he talked with the woman standing near the window. Lucius Malfoy and his ferret-faced spawn were on the far side of the room looking just as pompous and self-important as always. In the center of the room there was an old man sitting in a wheel chair. A tall woman with a long face and a thick blonde plait down her back stood to close to the door.  
  
Scrimgeour whirled his wand in the air and suddenly the walls of the room had been pushed back several feel and a conference table surrounded by chairs dominated the room. The old lion took his place at the head of the table, “I take it your father will be here shortly?”  
  
“Yes. In a few seconds actually.” No sooner than the words escaped Charlie’s mouth did the minister’s floo flare bright green. “There he is now.”  
  
Dad came through first and surveyed the room before turning back to the fire and nodding. That must have been the cue because immediately after the rest of my family filed into the office one by one.  
  
After the gateway to the burrow was closed the fireplace flickered again, this time it was the eerie blue glow of international floo. Fleur stepped out of the flames looking prim and severe in her fitted black dress and heels. She looked incredible and I could already feel my mind slipping away with her in the same room.  
  
The sound of footsteps preceded the opening of the office door. I turned and watched as Audrey came into the room. She looked fearsome dressed in fitted black trousers and tight short leather vest (honestly, not Percy’s type at all). She sent a short wave in my direction before walking over to Percy.  
  
It was almost sweet how Percy’s nervous fidgeting gave way to the shock of seeing Audrey right in front of him. Percy flushed pink and smiled in a way I hadn’t seen since before he left for Hogwarts. When I think of it I guess he really didn’t think she’d come for him or even know about the whole situation.  
  
“Hey there.” The room was so quiet that Percy’s whisper echoed. The rest of us did the polite thing and pretended not to listen to what was being said between them.  
  
“Hey yourself.” Audrey smirked at Percy and then shook her head as if he had done something pitifully stupid. “Once we are all done here I am going to tear you a new one for not letting me know about this mess.”  
  
The minister clapped his hands together briskly and motioned to the seats around the long table. We all shuffled over to the table, The Malfoys, the old man and the blonde lady all sat on the far side of the table near the minister.  
  
Dad sat across from Scrimgeour at the other head of the table with Bill and Fleur to his left, Mum to his right. The rest of us sat down on either side of the table staying as far away from the Minister and his marriage candidates as possible. Scrimgeour pushed his glasses onto his face and positioned his quick notes quill to parchment before letting go. “Right then—”  
  
“Sorry we’re late!” My eyes snapped to the door, like everyone else’s at the sound of Professor Dumbledore’s voice. “My fault entirely, I assure you, these old bones can’t ride a steed anymore. We had to take one of the carriages and a full team instead of just a few thestrals.”  
  
Dumbledore walked in to the office and held the door open for Hermione and Harry.  
  
Hermione looked wonderful, her hair was pulled back from her rounded face and she smiled at me before making her way to my side, waddling and swaying gently as she walked. Hermione’s body had filled itself out with soft curves and her stomach poked out adorably even though it was much larger than my own.  
  
Half a step behind Hermione was Harry. He was taller and more filled out than when I had seen him last. I took one look at his face and bit my cheek in an attempt not to smile. His expression, if you knew him, was comical. Harry hated the ministry and having to come into the building made him frustrated and surly. Well surly to anyone who didn’t know him well enough to realized that this was just his way of pouting.  
  
Two chairs materialized on either side of me. Harry pulled out the chair on the right for Hermione, made sure she was comfortable and then slid into his place on my left. Not a second later did I feel the hands of my two lovers. Hermione laid a small warm hand gently on my knee and Harry laced his fingers with mine. It felt so good to finally be with them again.  
  
“Now that we are all here, Minister please continue.”  
  
It was clear to everyone in the room that Scrimgeour wasn’t pleased about being prompted in his own office. His face was thunderous but he could do nothing but nod stiffly at the headmaster and proceed. “Yes as I was saying before we were interrupted, we are here today to sort out this situation in the most painless and quick way possible.  
  
Let us start by getting this situation out in the open. Arthur Weasley, you fathered six hermaphrodite children and never once solicited marriage contracts for them or reported the situation to the proper authorities.”  
  
“Correct.” Dad sat stiffly. It was easy to see that he was nervous and more than a little agitated by the whole thing.  
  
“Mr. Weasley, why did you not seek out marriage arrangements for your children?”  
  
“I do not believe in Marriage contracts or support them in any way, shape or form. My children have all grown into capable people, they can decided who and if they want to marry on their own. To be honest."  
  
It was unsettling to hear my dad speak so formally. Never before had I seen him adopt the façade of an entitled high-bred man. I mean, I knew that he was raised on one of the family holdings in a similar way to the other pureblood families but I don’t think it ever really sunk in until now. My father had always been lenient and indulgent. Dad let us all but run wild. We played and explored our kingdom without a care in the world. Dad often joined us out in the orchards; helping us scale trees, refereeing our childish sword fights and bandaging scraped elbows and knees with sure hands and a kind smile while we sat on his lap.  
  
“Why did you not come to the ministry to report your children’s condition upon their coming of age?”  
  
“I really don't see what the Ministry has to do with the domestic arrangements of my children. It is none of your business what happens in within my family unless we are breaking any laws."  
  
"There is a law isn’t there?" Ferret face pondered out loud, looking at his father for confirmation.  
  
"Excuse me then, sensible laws. You do not meddle in the affairs of any other pureblood families. Why should mine be any different?”  
  
“Come now Weasley,” ferret face Senior called from across the table, that stupid smug look on his face, “the answer is obvious. You and your children are a rare and exclusive commodity. You can provide _several_ strong, healthy and pure additions to our constantly dwindling society.”  
  
“Lucius, just because you suffer from impotency does not mean that the rest of wizarding society does. If they want to add to our numbers then they can, having a family is a choice not an obligation.”  
  
“Yes, I do understand that, however why did you choose to have more children than you could possibly afford?” My face flushed in shame, I had said the very same thing to my father not but a few weeks ago. And now Lucius Malfoy was throwing it in his face.  
  
I glanced around and saw my brothers' faces; there was barely contained outrage in their eyes and their lips had thinned so much that it looked like their mouths had vanished. They all sat perfectly still and unmoving, eyes on the blonde man out of their reach. I glanced at the head of the table and saw that Dad was barely reigning in his temper.  
  
“And then you refuse to see the benefit of securing a comfortable future for your offspring.”  
  
“Mr. Malfoy,” Scrimgeour snarled and glared at the other man. “This has nothing to do with this meeting and I will not tolerate any childish heckling. Am I understood?”  
  
"Yes," Lucius lifted an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair flipping a hand in the universal gesture of _please do, go on_. "Of course Rufus."  
  
The minister pursed his lips tightly before he went on, "Regardless of your stance on the law, you have still broken it. The outlined penalty for refusal is Azkaban or a fine until the individual in question has been wed. The fine is 2 galleons 8 sickles and fourteen knuts for every month unwed past the person's 18th birthday. Roughly 30 galleons a year." Scrimgeour shuffled through his parchment, pulled out one sheet and tapped it with his wand. The paper disappeared and reappeared in front of my father. "15 years for William, 13 years for Charles and 1 year for Percival. You are quite lucky that your twin sons haven’t reached their eighteenth birthday yet, as it is you are facing a 900 galleon fine."  
  
My jaw just about dropped at the number. Once glance around the table and I could already see Charlie calculating what was left in his savings in his head, the twins were muttering between themselves something about revenues and raised prices, Percy's paste pale face and frantic mutilating of his cuticles and Bill who was whispering into Fleur's ear.  
  
"You think your dad would let me take care of it, since it is my fault and all?" Harry whispered into my ear.  
  
I turned and gave him the best smile I could under the circumstances. "This isn’t your fault. Not everything revolves around you, you know. Besides I don’t really think Dad would let you, Weasley pride and all that."  
  
Harry snorted but at least he let the issue drop for now.  
  
"The fine if you'd be so kind." Dad's voice cut clear across our side conversations. "I'll work it out later."  
  
"There is no need," The blonde woman across the table finally spoke up. Her face looked familiar but I honestly couldn’t put my finger on where I had seen her before. "You approve my contract for one of your sons and I will take care of the fine and dowry."  
  
"Wow," Hermione puffed clearly outraged, crossing her arms and letting them rest on top of her belly. "Just when I thought people couldn’t get any more heinous. I didn’t realize we were at a cattle auction, I would have worn more appropriate boots."  
  
"Shut it, Mudblood." The woman snarled and slammed a hand down on the table. "You and that horrid little spawn you're carrying know nothing of our customs or our ways. Where do you— a dirty little mongrel— get off"  
  
"Madame Greengrass, I think you should take a minute to compose yourself." The headmaster's voice was arctic cold and tinged with the suggestion of a threat. But it didn’t stop the blonde bitch one bit.  
  
"A lousy little tart! Pregnant yourself and trying to claw your way into decent society! Who really is the father of that little abomination!? I b—"  
  
Suddenly she was gone.  
  
I looked around the room for the slightest hint of who had banished her. Every one apart from the Malfoys had their wands in hand so there was no way to tell.  
  
"Erm," Hermione cleared her throat and attempted to force down the blush that spread across the bridge of her nose. "For the record, the baby is Ron's. Madame Pomfrey checked for me."  
  
I studiously looked at my hands on the conference table. I could feel my ears burning and the eyes of my family on me. I couldn’t tell if they were surprised that we’d have an actual threesome (I mean, I _did_ say we were in a triad!) or that I knocked up Hermione.  
  
"Enough interruptions!" All eyes were back on the minister. "We don’t have all day. You've got the fine, 900 galleons. Next thing is the claims, who will be marrying whom? Lets get this done. Starting with William Weasley?"  
  
Fleur stood and announced to the room in her terrible English, "I vill be Marrying Beel in ze summer."  
  
"Your name, miss?"  
  
"Fleur Isabelle Delacour."  
  
The quill that hovered in mid air taking notes jumped to the next piece of parchment and scribbled down a few lines before returning to the first parchment roll. "Right then, anyone want to refute that claim? No, good. It's on record. Now, Charles Weasley."  
  
Charlie let out a long slow breath and shrugged. "I've got nothing." It just seemed so wrong for Charlie to sound so resigned.  
  
A thick coil of guilt settled deep in my stomach, I wanted Charlie to return to his life before this whole fiasco. I wanted Charlie to go on working with his dragons in Romania and live his normal, adventure filled life. Not be stuck here as the house boy of some ancient paraplegic or Malfoy's pet Weasley.  
  
"Right we'll sort that out in a few minutes. Percival Weas—"  
  
"Senior Auror Audrey Camille Levers." Audrey's long tan fingers caught Percy's fidgeting hands and stilled them gently before she laced her fingers between them. She may not be the usual type Percy went after but she'd take good care of him. "We were waiting until I met his parents before we got engaged but, I guess that plan didn’t work out so well, eh?"  
  
"Any objections? No? Alright next, George Wealsey?"  
  
"Fredrick Gideon Weasley. We'll be bonded shortly." George dropped his head in his hands and swallowed audibly. They didn’t want this and they certainly didn’t want it to turn out like this.  
  
"This is highly unorthodox, is it even allowable?" Malfoy's face was contorted into something ugly and bitter. I don’t know why he feels so invested in this mess. Knowing my brothers they'd hold up I Azkaban before giving into Malfoy.  
  
"The minister said no more interruptions, boy." I didn’t recognize the voice, it was thick deep and I realized that the old man could actually speak.  
  
"That sounds like an objection to me." The minister muttered, shuffled through his papers and then frowned at the twins. "You two do realize that this isn’t in any way a healthy relationship?"  
  
"Look we've been together since before we learned to breathe. At this point in the game bonding is just a courtesy to the rest of you." Fred still held the floor, commanding attention with his uncharacteristically grave tone. "There is nothing in the law abut you determining if it was a healthy relationship or not. The only stipulations were that I just be in a relationship by the time I'm eighteen."  
  
I was surprised that Fred had said that much, personally I would have gone with the ' _we are purebloods, this is what we do_ ' reasoning. It was easier with lots more precedence.  
  
"Very true, appeal denied. Ronald Weasley."  
  
"That would be us," Hermione didn’t stand, but her voice carried across the room nonetheless, "Hermione Jane Granger—"  
  
"And Harry James Potter."  
  
I don’t know how to describe how I felt at that moment. The closest I could ever come is proud and wanted, but really those words aren’t enough. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed but I'm not completely dense, I know I have my self esteem issues and the whole paranoia about being dumped for the latest and greatest. At that moment I really _got_ it. They knew what they were getting, they knew all my shameful secrets and abnormalities and still they wanted me and said as much when it mattered most.  
  
"Any objections?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry's face was thunderous as he stared down the Malfoys. "What is there to object to?"  
  
The ferret Draco smirked and leaned forward on his elbows. "Well, neither one of you are of legal age. And when Weasley is seventeen you still won't be."  
  
"I am seventeen." Hermione volunteered, a fierce scowl on her face, "and don’t you start on 'well that's statutory rape'. We were the same age when we got up the duff. Triads are perfectly legitimate and have more pull legally— I did the research."  
  
Harry caught my attention and rolled his eyes with a nod towards Hermione. I bit my lip trying to control my grin —Needless to say I failed. The whole thing was just so Hermione that it was hysterical.  
  
"You should have seen her yesterday when we got the owl." He mouthed and I couldn’t help but let loose a low chuckle.  
  
"How can you expect such an irresponsible child to care for a hermaphrodite? Let’s not forget what our focus here is. Notions of love and fancy are short lived with fickle children. I am wiling to make a favorable offer and the boy— well I don’t really think boy qualifies here— has already been ruined."  
  
I swear every time I get back to my regular color someone else brings my blush up again.  
  
"Now, now, Lucius," Dumbledore interjected, "it wouldn't do to besmirch the honor of our youth. After all what is to say your own son will remain interested."  
  
"It is not about interest, it's about a contractual agreement," Ferret Senior said slowly and with as much disrespect as he could muster. Which wasn’t exactly intelligent on his part seeing as how he was supposed to be making a good impression in the hopes that my father would approve the contract. My best guess is that he already knew that it was hopeless. "A pregnancy out of wedlock is shameful, and I can't imagine how Potter was even able to get Weasley into his bed without a ring as it is!"  
  
"Rather perverted, don’t you think? You shouldn’t be imagining any of that and besides we will be bonding once all of us are of age, not that it's any of your business who I marry."  
  
"Don’t be ridiculous! Of course its my business I have vested interest—"  
  
"Since when? Since this whole stupid hermaphrodite thing went public?" Harry's voice was sharp and cut clear across what anyone else might have said. Harry's magic crackled dangerously in the corners of the room, shifting smaller objects and shaking the furniture. He was using every last bit of his Boy-Who-Lived Charisma to cut Malfoy down. "If I remember correctly you thought the whole Weasley family was beneath you! What's changed? Please tell me. I'd love to know about your moral epiphany!"  
  
"Appeal denied…" The Minister said tentatively.  
  
"Appeal denied," came Harry's snarl as he leaned back into his chair. Under the table I put a hand on Harry's thigh and squeezed gently, hoping that it would calm him down before things started breaking.  
  
"Well last order of business is the pairing of Charles Weasley." Scrimgeour tapped a few scrolls in front of him and once again they appeared in front of Dad. "Those are the offered contracts, I narrowed it down to three. Today you must choose one."  
  
Dad passed the parchment over to Charlie with a grumbled, "You're marrying them, not me."  
  
Charlie opened the scrolls and flicked his wand at the one to the far left. "I'm not taking Malfoy's offer, I'd feel like I was cradle robbing if I did. Besides he's a bit of an ass." Both Malfoys went red in anger and Dad just sat there with a smug smirk. "No to Greengrass, again too young." Contract two went up in smoke. "Well Lord Prince, it looks like you've got yourself a Weasley."  
  
"My grandson will be pleased despite himself." The old man, Lord Prince, cracked an uneven smile. "Severus has a thing for redheads."  
  
Harry choked beside me, his eyes flying open as he realized something the rest of us didn’t. I leaned closer to him so that he could whisper in my ear, "That's Snape's grandfather."  
  
I wasn't expecting that. Sure, things in the wizarding community were more two degrees of separation than six but I would have never thought that I'd be related in even the most remote way to Severus Snape, potions master.  
  
Charlie smiled at the old man so wide that his eyes crinkled in the corners, "I certainly hope that's the case."  
  
Charlie knew, he had to know. There was no way he'd be so accepting if he didn't. Bill told me once before that Charlie had some strange, freakish, more-than-crush-infatuation for Professor Snape since he was a firstie.  
  
I had thought Bill was full of crap at the time. Now, I'm glad he was right because if he was it meant that things were working themselves out for us.  
  
**Epilogue;**  
  
Things settled out after all.  
  
Bill and Fleur had a summer wedding that reduced my mother to a blubbering mess then went to Antarctica on their honeymoon. They’ve got three kids now, Dominique, Victorie and little Louis. All three of them are pretty and blonde and French.  
  
Snape gave his notice that he wouldn’t return after he finished the year. He and Charlie were moving to the dragon reserve in Romania. Funny enough the two are as close to madly in love as I’ve ever seen, it’s all rather scary. They’ve got (surprisingly handsome) children too. Aubrey and Alden are just about nine now and as far as I know the pair of them are terrors. They live for adventure and are too smart for their own good, but with their parents who could expect otherwise.  
  
Audrey and Percy got married. It was a Muggle ceremony, the only guest on her side of the chapel were her elderly grandparents that raised her. Mum nags at them for grandchildren and Audrey laughs her off saying, “Percy can barely handle spilled ink, how do you think he’ll handle a dirty nappy?”  
  
The twins have the most unorthodox marriage I’ve ever seen. They both live separate lives for the most part. The only things they do together anymore is run the shop and apparently fuck, because even though Fred and George are seeing Angelina and Lee respectively Fred, George and Angelina are all preggers. I didn’t ask questions and I _never_ think about it.  
  
Ginny is traveling the world with the Harpies playing as their lead chaser. She’s having the time of her life leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her.  
  
Harry, Hermione and I did just what we planned and moved into the house on the outskirts of a Muggle town. The house was great. A real palace with three floors, four bathrooms, a balcony in the master bedroom and dining room, a cobalt kitchen with yellow appliances and a massive yard. It’s the perfect place really, large, spacious and perfect for our large and growing family.  
  
In true Weasley fashion I managed to get Hermione up the duff with twins the first time. The pair of them are proper Weasleys: Red hair, blue eyes and freckles everywhere.  
  
Adrian is the older of the two; he was sorted into Ravenclaw before the hat even sat on his head. But I can see why, when he was little all he did was ask questions. Most of the time it seemed like what, why and how were the only words he knew. Adrian is ace at Arithmancy, he’s always bent over some calculation or another. His current fancy is the answer to alchemy, the final use of dragon's blood and [Aingingein](http://www.hp-lexicon.org/wizworld/games.html).  
  
Riley is anything but a slouch in the academics, comes from his mother I’m sure, but he’s more eager to learn every hex, curse, jinx and counter out there. I’ve never met a more combat oriented Hufflepuff in all my life. I was doubtful when he was sorted. I thought the 'Puffs were supposed to be all marshmallow sweetness and work ethic and just a bit daft but I stand corrected. Riley’s a warrior at heart, who plays a mean game of chess and duels with Flitwick on Saturdays. He’s heading to the young duelist championships this summer and I couldn’t be prouder.  
  
My daughter Faye is a live wire. The girl is gorgeous with Harry’s green eyes and black hair, sharp as a tack, sweet as candy and a Slytherin to boot. She’s my Quidditch star, only in her fifth year and already the star player of her team on Harry’s old Firebolt (she refuses to ride any other broom). Quidditch scouts are always begging us to let her tour with them part time. Faye won’t hear of it until she graduates with eight NEWTS.  
  
Some days I find myself wondering how the ultimate Gryffindor Trio managed to have no Gryffindor children. It seems odd not to wear our old house colors when we go to cheer on our kids, though with Hermione pregnant again that may change.  
  
  
**End**

  


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